


Miserable Spectres

by crimsondust



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Fusion, Canon Era, Gen, Magic AU, fixit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-07-26 01:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20035279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsondust/pseuds/crimsondust
Summary: "When a certain degree of misery is reached, one is overpowered with a sort of spectral indifference, and oneregards human beings as though they were spectres. Your nearest relations are often no more for you than vague shadowy forms, barely outlined against a nebulous background of life and easily confounded again with the invisible." --Book sixth, Little GavrocheLoosely based on the Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell novel by Susanna Clarke and featuring the Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair, it tells the story of Eponine's life as a ghost, Fantine's fight and attempt to save Cosette, Cosette discovering Magic and their struggles to figure out their place in the story.aka a fixit of sorts for Eponine, Fantine and Cosette, with magic.





	1. The Rose as a Spectre

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave comments, kudos, if that's your thing- it's always appreciated. This was mostly a self indulgent project, which I grew to be fond of. I do have an ending in mind that will tie all their threads together which I will update when time permits.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine explores the many ways of being and unbeing in Paris.

**1830**

‘Paris is full of strange happenings at this time of the year,’ a young girl paused in her singing to converse with a passing stray cat. The girl shivered in her tattered dress as she waited for someone who was running late and kept glacing impatiently in the distance as soft snow swirled around her.

There was a cold and hunger of a different kind that had wrapped its arms around her in the same way her thin moth-eaten shawl she was fond of, did. Only a few weeks ago she was blissfully unaware of magic and Faeries. She wondered if she had always been a ghost- half existing in this world and half in another. Had she always been cursed by a Fairy’s magic to not exist?

She cleared her head, trying to think about when it was that she lost pieces of herself? Did she really drown in the Seine when watching the nets at St. Cloud and did not remember? 

Was her childhood really as long ago as it felt? She wondered if she was making up the preoccupations with the doll. Did they really have a kitten and Pa took it in his sack one day to drown or did she make up her memories? The grains of time slipped by; she grew up without growing into the romantic heroine her mother wanted her to be. 

She remembered her Maman sitting by her bedside during her illness. The next memory was of Maman teaching her and Azelma some words that they repeated and wrote, many of those were words of warning to signal the arrival of the bashers. Then she remembered clearly making fun of that girl, that little lark. She felt sadness wash over her as she thought of the lark. She wondered where the bird had flown away; her own wings had been broken ever since they moved to Paris. She never wanted to move to Paris. Paris was full of coldness and darkness and memories she wanted to keep locked up and never think of, except one- Monsieur Marius their neighbour had been kind to her. Why was her childhood a blur and Paris full of strong memories and sharp odors that turned her stomach, wherever she looked?

She was no longer a young woman, only a half dead ghost ever since that Faerie Gentleman had appeared and taken her to Faerie[1] though it felt much longer than that. She shivered in the winter air as she observed that Paris was much colder this year and that she would be glad of some warmth of the theatre which her brother had promised to take her to. The bird that she had fashioned from a discarded paper while waiting, fluttered a little in the breeze as if in acknowledgement of her thoughts. A gift for Gavroche, she thought, he is learning letters and how to read and write at the printshop.

The charm of youth was still fighting beneath her ghoulish appearance as she observed the ebb and flow of life moving in this great heart. Cities are like mechanical hearts. The sound of a carriage’s wheels, the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves, the sound of washing from the corner house, all formed part of a dull hum that echoed with the beating of her heart. 

There was a reason she was waiting patiently on the corner of one of the narrow streets for the arrival of a carriage.

An elderly gentleman with white hair stepped gingerly outside the carriage and walked towards the church. She rushed towards him with a letter before he could step inside and was swallowed by the dark void. She was not sure if ghosts could enter churches or if the priest might sprinkle holy water over her. 

She had not accustomed herself to delivering these missives from her father- who was using aliases of course, to benevolent or otherwise strangers. The rest of the time, she would walk at night along the empty streets trying to make sense of the broken shards of her life which lodged deep in her hands, the more tightly she held on to them, and pricked fresh tears of pain from her. The streets were cold, though not more than the affection she would receive from her Pa or Ma, and often shimmered brightly for her. There was light in the distance but as she reached closer, it disappeared- leaving behind a dull puddle where she could see no reflection.

In the distance, the noise grew louder, and she put her hands over her ears: Was someone throwing stones at her or was this noise part of the construction in Paris? But she did not wait to find out, she ran not knowing where she was going, not even having any destination in mind, her bare feet hovering lightly over the pavements before stopping outside a baker’s shop. She did not have a reflection in the shop windows again, no way to discern that she existed, that she exists, ‘I am’ she chanted mechanically without believing it.

‘It has to be because I feel hungry,’ she mused, ‘Hunger does that to you, turn you into a ghoul.’ A raspy laughter escaped her, and she was scarcely able to cry. In her preoccupations she hadn’t noticed Montparnasse walking towards her.

Eponine blurted out that she was trapped by magic, she wanted someone to know, even if that someone was Montparnasse, but he only looked at her as if she had lost her mind. This was not surprising, as Eponine had found that she had been describing the recipe of a famous rabbit stew to him.

‘Magnon wants to know about the fence who lives in La Chapelle, for the jewels she stole. The old fence is blackmailing her about her new brats.’

‘I had that conversation with Magnon already, Montparnasse. Her two little ones died recently. She needed to find a different way of making money from that silly old man.’ Eponine’s voice became pensive and acquired a soft tone as she thought about Magnon and Mamselle Miss’ two little ones that she had sometimes looked after.

‘Oh, who cares about those brats?’ Montparnasse began irritated, before smiling, he turned Eponine’s face towards the light as if examining it and then let his hand drop, ‘If this scheme works, we shall be rich men Eponine. You will dress in finery and have people to order about.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Thenardier has found a book of magic with summoning spells. It is as good as alchemy. We will be able to summon purses from rich folk without lifting a finger. He has made a deal with a Faerie gentleman who has agreed to help us.’

Of all her father’s schemes, this one seemed the most outlandish.

Eponine folded her hands over her chemise as Montparnasse took out the rose from his buttonhole and smelled it, looking pleased with himself.

‘Congratulations Montparnasse,’

His head snapped up from the rose and he adopted a smug look. However, Eponine was no longer paying any attention to him, which annoyed him. He decided to find someone more receptive of his news.

Eponine watched him leave and then walked inside the baker’s shop where she went unheard and unseen as the baker went about his business distributing baguettes to evening customers. Montparnasse hadn’t noticed that she was a ghost and she could not tell him; the bakery owner hadn’t noticed that she was a person.

She sang an old folk song, her heart aching for something solid to hold, and only finding some comfort in Paris' motherly embrace. The city knew her and she knew its strange, crooked ways and its forgotten alleys. 

* * *

On some days she would disappear into those nooks and corners as a ghost, as rich ladies fit their hands into gloves she observed. Paris followed her and she was happy for the company- rediscovering its crooked alleys and sometimes when she was feeling bold, its gardens- the places where she would not be allowed entry normally, she could access as a ghost. This fact amused her. Sometimes she watched young couples in the Jardin des Plantes who were absorbed in their own little worlds, they existed so far removed from everything she knew, with their hopes and dreams still visible on their faces. 

She would go over all the places where she had existed to find proof that she had been someone- a young girl once had existed in the hollow shell she inhabited, even if she no longer remembered her. ‘I am’ she repeated. There were traces everywhere, even ghosts left footprints if you looked closely. 

Sometimes when walking the streets, she felt as if she had a form again, as if something or someone was bringing her body and soul together- then she was no longer drowning. But most of the time she felt hollow and transparent as if she had dreamed up her existence.

* * *

For now, Eponine walked further ahead and found Gavroche returning from his apprenticeship at a printer’s and she smiled to see him nodding to her which was different to how Montparnasse and the others saw her. He was accompanied by a dark-haired girl and Eponine’s heart was joyous to find Azelma running towards her.

Her younger sister had complained of pain and headaches after the last errand. She was a child still and needed more food, no wonder the poor girl was sick. Eponine did not always feel charitable towards Azelma but she missed her company and chatter. Gavroche looking smugly satisfied opened a box of pastries to shew them.

‘A gift from the printers’ shop on New Year’s. Enjolras and Sons are generous employers.’ Gavroche glanced at Eponine closely as Azelma scooped up a pastry and attacked the fluffy ball of sweetness. 

His eyes softened as he took in Eponine’s pale appearance. ‘What’s the matter, ‘Ponine?’ he asked his tone light but full of worry, ‘There seems to be a strange coldness around here and there is something in the air…’ he looked just to the left, above Eponine’s head. Eponine knew she must not worry her little brother and yet tears spilled out of her for the first time that day. 

‘Magic,’ Gavroche nodded sagely, ‘I’ve seen instances of this sort of magic, remember when my friend, little Jean who used to live with me on the street, died? He was a ghost for several years because his father had annoyed a faerie.’ 

‘I have not annoyed one, not to my knowledge.’ Eponine wrapped her shawl around her tighter before realising that the cold was part of who she was, ‘I’m not even a person, I don’t know how it happened and I’m not sure when it happened. It feels sudden and also as if I have always been a ghost ever since we came to Paris.’ She repeated sadly.

‘Don’t worry I’ll take care of it.’

Eponine’s eyes became wide and questioning, ‘How will you take care of it?’

‘By making a complaint to the Magic Department of which I am the Chairman.’ Gavroche said with a grin, Eponine laughed despite herself.

He touched her on the sleeve, ‘If we find what the Faerie want, we can persuade them to leave us alone. Don’t worry Eponine.’

‘I haven’t been able to tell anyone what’s wrong with me, because the words never come out right. I feel like my learning is gone, and I don’t know what to do.’ She wiped her tears with her sleeve.

‘Let’s go to the theatre, it is a shame for your sister to be a ghost and not pull pranks on some of the actors I know. They are playing Racine’s Phaedre this week instead of that Victor Hugo play, we can also make fun of the neoclassical theatre crowd from the stands.’ Gavroche tried to make Eponine smile.

Eponine fondly ruffled her brother’s hair for his remark while Azelma ate a pastry, her thin hands finding joy in the act. Eponine had to contend herself with little crumbs of happiness at a time. Walking to the theatre with Gavroche and Azelma, chattering about the latest play, her heart swelled a little. Too much happiness, she reminded herself and I will only be heartbroken. Despite that, she allowed herself to be happy in a long while.

[1] Fairies occasionally abducting people is not something new. The earliest records of Fairy abduction exist from the 12th Century, when an Englishman was abducted but managed to escape. 


	2. Theatre of Deception

Patron Minette had no form or shape, they were a miserable parasite deep underground in Paris, which was perhaps why they attracted the attention of the Faerie Gentleman intent on keeping the contract he had made with Napoleon. Although that might not be completely accurate, since it was they who sought out the Faerie. 

Thenardier who had uncovered this information from one of his contacts deep in the mine where criminals are working in the dark, had introduced Claquesous, Babet, Gueulemer and Montparnasse to the Faerie Gentleman and to magic.

That had had an effect on Patron Minette’s relations with each other. Babet’s teeth pulling antics also included some minor spells, which rarely worked because he could not understand the magic properly – privately he blamed it on the poorly written book and cursed the author. But it was enough for him to draw occasional crowds and fleece people off of their money. His latest antic was selling a bottle of snake oil, claiming it to be enchanted. 

Thenardier through flattery had manged to receive letters from several rich people who wanted to learn magic. Already Thenardier had sold several people on the idea that he was a famous magician who could teach them and their children magic, he pocketed the fees and then disappeared, knowing that a few parlour tricks won’t impress the enthusiastic students. It was he who had made a deal with the Faerie Gentleman to sell his daughter in favour of learning a few parlour tricks to fool rich folk into parting with their money.

‘She would be lovely to add to my collection.’ The Faerie gentleman[1] had responded, ‘There is something about her that I like. You will be able to do all the magic you want in return.’

The next moment Thenardier was declaiming loudly about his debts and how a little magic would ease them.

Madame Thenardier had disliked the bargain, ‘Why ‘Ponine? Why my daughter?’

‘She’s more useful to us this way, dear.’ Thenardier explained misspelling 'gentleman'. Mme Thenardier sighed as she picked up her novel again, she could no more save her daughters, she could not even save herself from this wretched existence.

‘Look how much money these fools are willing to pay me thinking I can teach magic.’ Thenardier pointed to dozens of letters that he had received in return.

Madame Thenardier looked over her husband’s shoulder, ‘And can you?’

‘I know not a word. These spells are too hard. The Faerie Gentleman, no, swindler of the highest degree, I should call him, said they would be easy.’

‘You sold her for nothing.’ Madame Thenardier gave a contemptuous glance towards her husband even as she went back to turning pages on the volume in her hands.

‘Patience woman. I know what I am doing. It will take me a fortnight to learn these spells, meanwhile our debts are being paid.’

Madame Thenardier looked around the cold empty room, at Azelma shivering through her rags, to them starving and shook her head.

‘I have a way we can increase our money further. We need to find benefactors who would like to see some magic.’ He flipped through several pages of the book and pointed to a vaguely sinister sounding spell. He scrunched his eyes in concentration but could barely make out anything beyond a few words. What if the spell was about something harmless like growing more fruits?’

‘You could at least conjure up some supper, dearest. A boiled potato occasionally is hardly enough for three people to live on.’ Madame Thenardier remarked dryly.

‘Do not disturb an artist in his performance, dear.’

These three individuals formed a family which was not really a family, who were only disturbed by a knock on the door announcing the arrival of the dandy Montparnasse.

Montparnasse did not want to learn the spells or bother himself about magic, he was waiting for the time when Thenardier would inform him that he had turned lead into gold. For this reason, he had been accumulating more debts on his clothing. Thenardier informed him that their becoming rich was only a matter of few days and that he had a plan.

In the meantime, he had come into some money, so he was not worried, Magnon and Mamselle Miss had stolen some fancy jewellery, he had been useful to them in disposing of the jewellery and he had pocketed his share. He had bought the finest suit, and was strutting rather like a peacock, much too pleased with himself. He inquired about the philanthropic gentleman job.

Thenardier never to look a gift horse in the mouth had also been planning this on the side, ‘He is coming tonight at 6, the fool. I am going to capture him and keep him trapped. I know it’s him and the girl who was beside him- it’s her, the lark.’ The last three words were said to his wife.

Madame Thenardier looked angry and surprized, ‘Why to think, she…She dressed in all the finery, oh I am so angry, when our daughters are living like this.’

‘You see, the Faerie Gentleman’s magic will be so useful to us in our plans.’

Montparnasse who had taken the rose out of his buttonhole nodded and quietly slipped outside staying in the shadows.

* * *

Eponine had been roaming the streets. She knew her father was expecting her to be around at five to rob the philanthropist, but she kept putting off going home for a few minutes and then some more. She had been gazing at the paving stones looking for snails like Gavroche had shewed her when she noticed a forlorn dandelion growing in the cracks. She gazed at it and suddenly words which had not occurred to her till then appeared on her lips. The plant turned its face towards Eponine and began to grow. It pushed against the cracks and while it only stood several centimetres above ground, it was no longer drooping.

Eponine did not know what had happened, did she will the plant into being alive somehow? Did she cast a magic spell without knowing anything about magic? She did not understand. She went off to find Azelma and forget about what had just transpired. 

It must be a coincidence, she thought running towards Gorbeau House with Azelma so that they would be on time, pushing away the voice in her head telling her that this was powerful magic. 

[1] Some Faeries have been known to abduct/trap people in their curses or through their clever contracts. They might agree to spin silk into gold while telling you to guess their name. If you fail to guess their name correctly, they might take either you or your first born, to Faerie roads. Humans cannot exist in Faerie Roads and in this world at the same time. Something inevitably dies and loses; people often turn into ghosts; some people might die in this world and live on in Faerie only. Faerie abduction has become a warning inserted in every fairy tale from Europe to Asia. Magicians often warn of never making deals with Faeries because they will try to win each contract and trap you; however, some magicians have a distrust of Faeries and their opinions are biased. Mr. Norrell, of Yorkshire, England did not like or trust Faeries very much. His experience with one particular Faerie is well known since news of that travelled to France. It isn’t just Faeries that have been known to abduct people, there are some powerful magicians, like the Raven King in England who have been said to do so as well, from a book on History of Magic in England by Martin Pale. 


	3. Father Mabeuf encounters a benevolent spirit

1832

Father Mabeuf liked talking to his plants and thinking that they could hear him, but his fingers no longer had the strength to unhook the bucket and take it to the well. He was contemplating the stars in search of an answer, sending a desperate plea to heavens for help, when a voice took him out of his reverie.

‘Father Mabeuf, do you want me to water your garden for you?’

It was an apparition of a girl, a sad little waif, who Mabeuf noted seemed more like a spirit.

‘You are a fairy.’ He clasped his hands together, his eyes scarcely believing what he was seeing, all the old legends[1] recalled to his mind. The plants being bathed in water gently was the only sign of someone being here.

The girl shook her head, ‘I am a ghost, but it is all the same to me what you call me. You can call me the devil for I have been one.’ Beyond that anything she said turned out to be mutterings from a different language.

She kept going back for more buckets of water and soon the whole garden was watered. She then looked at the barren patch of land, talking to herself and a tall plant started to grow there.

It became fully-grown in a matter of minutes and had sprouted leaves and flowers. What beautiful flowers they were too, in shades of soft mauve and pink, though the plant carried a melancholy feeling in its petals.

She smiled sadly, ‘Yes, I can somehow grow flowers as if by magic. It is funny, how Pa would kill to have magic work for him, but somehow it came to me that I can use it. I can do some other things with it too.’ 

Mabeuf put a hand to stop her from leaving even though he knew spirits were whimsical and would hardly stay because of his wishes.

‘Come on in.’ he gestured before the girl could say anything. Mother Plutarch was surprized at Mabeuf walking inside with a young girl who was pale and translucent.

‘We have a very humble supper, Mother Plutarch and I, though the good old woman is ill these days. This is all I have.’ He said pointing to a thin strip of bone and a watery soup.

Eponine shook her head, ‘I’m not hungry.’ This was a lie, Eponine hadn’t had a morsel of food all day.

Father Mabeuf asked Eponine about her story. She started speaking about the Faerie Gentleman’s curse but instead words about which plants to grow, how to procure the seeds came out of her mouth. 

She flinched and stopped in frustration. Another try revealed another extensive monologue about knitting and sewing. Father Mabeuf wouldn’t understand her predicament, no one would. It was difficult carrying a burden when you couldn’t make anyone understand. 

She brightened up as her gaze settled on the books, ‘You’ve got a lot of books, you have. We don’t have any, but I can read and write all the same.’

Father Mabeuf walked towards the bookshelf and picked out a book. He opened it on a specific page and pushed it towards Eponine smiling.

‘I think I know why you cannot speak when you describe what has happened. It is a silencing spell, a powerful Faerie magic.’

Eponine read the text slowly and then nodded. 

Mabeuf closed the book, ‘We need to figure out how to break the spell that you are under. As someone who has an interest in studying magic, I have the books, well, I have some of the books. I sold most of them to pay for food, but I have some books on magic and at one time I even tried to use some spells.’ Mabeuf paused and looked at the girl, a frank searching gaze, thinking how much the girl must have endured and that it was Providence that she walked through their door, ‘But the magic I saw you do. That is something else, that is powerful magic.’

‘I didn’t learn it from anywhere. I could do the spell and I still don’t know why. I talked to the plant and asked it to grow, because I felt it was lonely, see. And I know how that feels.’ Eponine hung her head feeling shy and awkward. 

‘In the olden days you would have been a powerful and respected witch in the countryside. You must have been blessed by one of the Saints.’ Mabeuf said thoughtfully.

Eponine stood up and started to shyly walk out the door.

‘Wait, stay with us, we will find a way to break the spell.’ Mabeuf said.

Eponine shook her head, ‘I’ll be fine, I am the devil as I said, and I mean that. Besides, my Pa will miss me if I am gone too long and will be angry,’ she flinched at the sound in her head, ‘And Azelma and Gavroche too.’

She paused at the door, turned around and looked softly at the warmth in the room of Mabeuf looking after Mother Plutarch and Solomon the cat demanding attention from them both, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I will be back, to read all these books on magic and learn more.’ There was a hunger in her eyes, a kind of hunger she had rarely had chance to explore. She wanted to know what was in those books about magic.

* * *

Eponine true to her word visited Father Mabeuf and Mother Plutarch again, this time with Gavroche. She hesitated less at the door this time and brought some food with her. It was not much, a loaf of bread and some leftover cheese, but her father was in prison and she could keep the money Magnon and Mamselle Miss sometimes left her after a burglary. 

‘If I am to do this and learn from you, you must accept some kindness from me as well.’ Her face was determined.

‘She’s an old soul, my sister.’ Gavroche said in greeting, ‘And seems like she is in good company.’ Gavroche’s face softened at Mother Plutarch who was still lying in bed, ‘Poor old girl. We shall see you well under the republic. All I need now are some carts to make a make shift barricade.’

Mabeuf smiled at the girl and her look and called her a fairy again and Gavroche an imp.

‘A goblin perhaps,’ she conceded looking in the mirror and quickly walking towards the bookshelf.

‘Truly.’ Gavroche nodded, enjoying teasing his sister.

‘So, what are we learning first?’

‘First,’ Father Mabeuf smiled, ‘We shall have some tea.’ Eponine was contented with that. Mother Plutarch who was feeling somewhat recovered from her illness, joined them. The poor old servant hadn’t had a proper meal in her sickness. Solomon the cat went to Eponine and purred loudly, and she smiled at the little universe she had created for herself. She and Gavroche stayed by Mother Plutarch’s side tending to her as best as they could, which was not much but it brightened Mother Plutarch to have people around her. 

‘Do you know how to make medicines from plants for Mother Plutarch?’ Eponine asked after some hours of her lesson on different magical spells and remedies, Gavroche had been talking to Solomon the cat and had taught him a new trick which delighted him. They had decided to start with plant magic, since Eponine seemed to shew a decided talent for that.

‘We would need specific saplings and seeds.’ Mabeuf wrote down a list of plants and how they were grown, Eponine studied them for some hours and then walked wordlessly outside, her voice ringing with the spells that Father Mabeuf had taught her and new plants grew around her. Mabeuf was delighted, from these he worked hard at extracting juices and crushing them to form a paste which they gave to Mother Plutarch who along with proper food, made a much more natural recovery. 

The next day, Eponine came earlier and saw Mabeuf toiling away at his indigo plants and Mother Plutarch feeling much better and able to get up on her feet.

‘I tried to grow indigo, but it died.’ Eponine shook her head, watching the plant wither away.

Mabeuf seemed happier for the first time in months, ‘Never mind. I have in mind to write a book on Plants and Herbal Remedies using Magic. It will provide us with some money while the Flora of the Environs of the Cauteritz is not selling.’

Growing plants wasn’t as easy as Eponine thought. Many died after the first few hours, some like the roses were finicky and had to be coaxed with several bribes before they consented to raising their heads. Father Mabeuf’s knowledge about plants came to their aid in many instances, otherwise Eponine would have grown wild weeds around her.

Then other spells had to also be said in conjunction and many had to be learned. They spent time with the flowers in the garden, working hard from morning until dusk to cultivate new varieties. ‘Flowers have souls.’ Mabeuf would say to her as he pointed out each disease and its possible cure, ‘We must respect their wishes and listen to nature.’ Eponine learned how to listen to what the plants were saying and talked fondly to them as if they were her friends, and they responded by growing taller and sprouting more flowers for her.

Mabeuf’s book was growing with a list of plants and herbs and he meticulously copied each and every one of the magical herbs and their uses in healing. He was going to send this book to Gallimard, a publisher who he was acquainted with. It was Gallimard who had published Flora of the Environs. Gallimard gave Mabeuf some money, it was a paltry sum as far as advances for books went, but it was enough to live on.

He insisted on giving half of it to Eponine.

‘What’s this?’ she looked on in surprize.

‘I never would have finished the book on magical herbs and plants without your help.’

‘You must keep my advance, as payment for teaching me so much. I’m afraid my Pa will only steal it.’ Eponine’s eyes were shining with brightness, ‘Oh, when I tell Azelma and Gavroche how much I have learned about magic with you, won’t they just be so pleased?’

* * *

Father Mabeuf’s book was placed in several bookshops and Parisians first bought it out of curiosity and then bought more copies because it contained useful cures for several ailments. A government official visited a publishing establishment where it was kept.

‘You are keeping a book on magic.’

Gallimard the publisher looked at him through his pince-nez, ‘And the sky is blue, grass is green. This is a bookshop, there are books on all sorts of subjects. Your point?’

The government official looked round, ‘It was not approved through our censors, you are not allowed to sell any more books on magic without passing it for approval through the official censors. We don’t want people to have ideas about magic.’

‘Which ones?’

‘That anyone can do magic. Magic is only for the kings and aristocrats, you must know that. Not for the ill-informed superstitious masses.’ The government official turned around and then added, ‘We shall be seizing every book on magic you have.’

‘Would just be easier to make them all disappear by magic, you know.’ Gallimard said. The government official did not like that reply. Whether it was Gallimard’s unhelpful remarks or his vocal support of Daumier’s cartoon, he found himself in prison for six months and his publishing business passed on to his nephew who knew the importance of keeping his tongue shut, except when praising the bourgeois king.

Some years later, a mediocre book had appeared in the market, written by a Baron-something or other, which talked of Great Magic [2]performed by the Kings of France and included an odd spell or two performed by the royalty for their amusement. For some reason which has never been fully explained, that book was never pulled from the shelves. It is for the wise to draw their own conclusions. 

* * *

Who is there? Thenardier asked quickly trying to put away the implements of magic away before the gent could suspect that the spell had not worked.

‘Ta fee[3],’ Eponine said walking in and smiling sweetly, ‘Show me some good magic, Pa. I will wait.’

Thenardier glared at Eponine while falling into a trance where he attempted to converse with a famous magician. ‘I have been told by the séance that Tuesday is when we should do the spell, Monsieur. Tuesday is an auspicious day for magic.’

‘My Pa is full of grand airs, Monsieur.’ Eponine said enjoying this far too much, ‘Hello Pa it is so good to see you out and about instead of in La Force. Hello Gueulemer, Hello Babet. Is Montparnasse not here with you?’

Thenardier picked up the book from the counter and with a mirror he had placed, muttered a few incoherent words. Smoke rose from beside the mirror and M. Damont was impressed and agreed to pay the visit on Tuesday.

‘Why do you have to make trouble, Eponine?’ Thenardier muttered angrily, ‘If I hadn’t been thinking on my feet, this fool would have left.’

‘I can’t let you tarnish the name of magic,’ Eponine shook her head, ‘Any fool would think that you can do magic in this manner when you are pulling wool over their eyes. People will despise magic even more.’

Thenardier sulked and said in a low, threatening voice, ‘Don’t ruin this ‘Ponine. Or else.’

‘Or else what, P’pa?’ Eponine said looking innocently at him, ‘I am not afraid of you, I am the daughter of a wolf. I have learned this from you.’

‘You’re a smart girl, ‘Ponine. You’ll clear out of our business.’ Thenardier shook Eponine hard until her teeth chattered, and air seemed to leave her.

‘Let her go, we have more pressing concerns on our mind.’ Babet said coming forward from the shadows and glancing at Eponine, ‘I have a concoction that we can sell M. Damont to guard against being duped by common street magicians, of which clearly there are many who don’t know what they are talking about.’

Thenardier gave a final contemptuous glance at Eponine and then walked outside, discussing their plan for M. Damont. Eponine raised herself slowly from the floor, shaking in every limb. She steadied her nerves and then looked at the half length mirror with its intricate design that had been left by Patron Minette. Her keen eyes grasped that the mirror had magic, even though Thenardier had missed all the signs.

She took the mirror from where it was placed and dragged it forward. Now that Monsieur Marius had moved out, the room beside theirs in the Gorbeau tenement was empty.

Mame Bougon had found no suitable tenants yet, which was fortunate, though Eponine still missed having Monsieur Marius around. She dragged the mirror towards the other room.

Father Mabeuf had taught her the spell of seeing in the mirror and glimpsing the Faerie roads. She performed the spell which involved speaking argot, a language she had given up for Monsieur Marius.

She immediately winced as sharp pain shot from her bare feet. The mirror which had been clear, grew foggy and then cleared up again. She peered through its shiny surface and glimpsed a forlorn woman with gold in her short hair, and a toothless smile looking directly at her.

Eponine knew the woman was trapped in Faerie by the manner of her gait and her expression. That was how she herself walked the streets of Paris, often restless, tired and in pain even though the Faerie gentleman promised so much more.

The woman wept continuously and muttered a single word. Eponine knew what she was saying, it was a word she had heard under various guises: toad, alouette, werewolf child. It was a word she had learned to hate in her childhood by imitating her mother and with which she felt an immense pity now. The name on the poor woman’s lips was Cosette.

[1] Among Father Mabeuf’s library were books such as President Delancre, De l’inconstance des Demons; a quarto by Mutor de la Rubaudiere, Sur les Diables de Vauvert et les Gobelins de la Bievre which he had been currently reading. Father Mabeuf had an extensive library of magical books, which he had collected over the years from different parts of the provinces.

[2] Throughout much of history, royalty has either feared magic, as in the case of Louis XIV, the Sun King and his court magicians or have tried to become the Great magician such as in the case of Napoleon. It still did not change the fact that much of aristocrats and bourgeoisie view magic as superstitious and backwards activity and they would think it beneath their dignity to indulge in any magic. This might be the case why the book did not sell, other than it was poorly written and contained many spelling mistakes.

[3] Fee - fairy.


	4. The Lark that never sings and the bird that always weeps

It was Fantine’s innocence and beauty that had attracted the Faerie gentleman. He had seen the pearls shine while she laughed as she sewed and the gold glitter while she walked in the sunlight. He was miffed when the girl gave herself to Tholomyes as a lover. Sometimes the Faerie gentleman was petty like that. She also resembled some of the Faerie women he had seen, who were renowned for their beauty. And the terms of his bargain with Napoleon stipulated that he could take anyone in France he so chose.

The gentleman loved contracts like that, he often struck great bargains because no one could guess his name. The gentleman did not have a very high opinion of man’s cleverness or of woman’s or child’s neither. He did have a particular affinity for humans for all that.

He watched Cosette as a babe in her arms and felt pricks of anger at that small being who was everything to her dear mother who sang lullabies to the child, in a language not very different from the Pharisees, and would be so alarmed if she so much as sneezed. He saw Tholomyes often ignored the cooing and gurgling baby, but he liked putting the beautiful young girl, the mother, on his arms and seeing looks of admiration from everyone.

The Faerie gentleman devised a log that would suit Tholomyes equally and he knew that the pompous bourgeois student who made a great show of saying nothing by using so many words would hardly notice- an animated log for a woman, for in the next moment, he was leaning towards and flirting with Favourite, while the young girl with gold in her hair looked away slightly disappointed. In that moment, the gentleman felt sorry for her.

‘I would have made her a queen,’ he muttered to himself, ‘I shall still make her the most famous woman in all of Faerie, all the Faeries would be jealous of her.’

He needn’t have worried too much on account of the law student. Tholomyes’ surprise left the poor girl alone with a child. The Faerie gentleman seethed with rage at the girl’s tears as she rocked her child to sleep, and in the wee hours of the morning devised several revenge schemes of his own. Now he was going to set several crows to follow the law student and pluck at his eyes, or maybe dog him with ill luck and darkness. Then he thought he might set leeches on him to suck all the life out of him, not that Tholomyes had much life in him, he was a bore of the highest order. The Faerie Gentleman made all such schemes.

* * *

One other creature on which the ire of the Faerie gentleman fell was more inexplicable.

It was the dear darling child that was all the family that the poor young girl had. She had developed a cough while nursing her and the Faerie gentleman blamed the mother’s health on the innocent child. The Faerie gentleman was jealous of the child who took up all of the mother’s attentions. He wanted to take the child to Faerie, out of hate rather than because he felt any affection towards her. The child turned her blue eyes -strikingly like the mother’s- at him sometimes, and giggled. She could see the Faerie gentleman and would often make gestures indicating that she wanted to play with him. The Faerie gentleman was often cold to her or pinched her arm, which caused the poor child to look around in confusion and cry.

The Faerie gentleman was therefore much pleased that Fantine had left her darling child at an inn with a family named Thenardiers even though the poor mother was heartbroken. Still, she had resolved to go to Montreuil sur Mer and earn her fortune there.

Her life settled into a habit of work, which gave her some money which she sent for her child’s upkeep. The Faerie gentleman decided that the time was ripe enough, that he must appear in front of her and lure her with promises of riches on Faerie Roads. He appeared to have made a terrible first impression, Fantine at first took him for a lover who she abandoned soon after, and then did not think of him at all. She did not shew any interest in either him or the Faerie Roads, her thoughts being entirely occupied with Cosette, the hope of being reunited with her soon and in keeping house with Marguerite. The Faerie gentleman vanished, disappointed.

She had listened to the Thenardiers talk of military fever and demand more money than she could ever hope to earn, laughed hysterically and then cried because she could not send for her dearest child, nor possess enough funds to travel there. When next the Gentleman appeared, he found Fantine who had sold everything. Gone were her pretty hair and her two front teeth, in a bargain to a devil, he presumed. He found her at the mercy of Javert, having to plead for the life of her child. He was impressed and saddened at the same time with the strength she shewed and the anger in her eyes at the appearance of Mayor Madeleine.

* * *

The Faerie Gentleman wanted to shew the riches and the good life to Fantine, so he constructed a mirror which shewed her with her darling Cosette. There Cosette was running chasing butterflies while Fantine waited with a picnic basket for her.

‘Mama Look.’ Cosette was pointing at the butterflies in the park and running around. Fantine’s love and care had made her a confident toddler, so she was exploring the Jardin des Plantes, though she took care to come back frequently to her mother’s side.

The scene dissolved and Fantine was telling her stories from Perrault’s book on Fairy Tales for Children. She took Cosette’s tiny hand in hers and sketched the words while repeating the name of the object, ‘An apple,’ she smiled holding it up for Cosette.

Cosette cooed and gurgled in delight at the strange new object and promptly put it in her mouth, Fantine laughed at her little daughter trying to eat an apple that was too large for her and then broke it into bite sized pieces, while Cosette kept repeating the delightful new word, ‘Apple’ over and over again and pointing at the object. 

The scene shifted again and Fantine was teaching her sentences, Cosette had a copy book which she was using to write them down. In the soft light of the morning, which fell on her face, Fantine smiled at her daughter bending over the copybook and repeating sentences to herself.

There was Fantine teaching her how to read and there was Cosette taking Communion in her white dress that Fantine had sewed for her. In the next moment, Cosette was running towards Fantine, describing her school day in exhaustive detail and her search for the bugs in the school yard, the dreams about the stars and sometimes the young men who appeared in them.

The mirrors once again shewed a different picture, this time it was Cosette in a white dress with flowers in her hand, taking a fiacre to church. Fantine, who looked as fresh as a morning flower had tears in her eyes as she watched the wedding ceremony. As they were leaving, Cosette ran towards her and whispered something in her ear as did her husband who also bowed, and together they walked with Fantine to their new home, with Cosette chattering happily to her mother and her husband.

* * *

The image in the mirror was getting blurred and she could no longer see Cosette.

‘Cosette,’ she cried out, coughing loudly. Sister Simplice looked at the doctor and rushed to Fantine’s side, ‘You mustn’t excite yourself, Fantine.’

The Faerie gentleman became distracted and the image vanished. Sister Simplice was comforting Fantine. She felt that her daughter was here, she knew that her daughter was here, there was her voice and she could see her face so clearly. The image of her and Cosette which had hung so tantalizingly in the air, she searched for it. If only she could reach a hand and grab her.

‘I’ll be good, Sister, please let me see Cosette,’ she pleaded, this time a bit more faintly.

The gentleman who had already fashioned a log in his schemes against Tholomyes, gave it animation; it now took the place of Fantine with all her likeness and illness. Javert appeared and grabbed Monsieur Madeleine, calling him a thief and being far too pleased with himself. Her daughter was not there and would not be coming. Her head was aching, she fell into what she thought was a dream and found herself walking in the storm on roads she had never encountered before. She made a prayer to keep her daughter safe as the Faerie roads closed behind her and she lost sight of the human world. 

* * *

While such misfortunes befell the mother, let us look in on the child as well. Cosette was a feral child, neglected and abused by the Thenardiers and abandoned by society.

The curse of the Faerie Gentleman was too strong over the child he had hated for so long, she spent her days trapped by the Thenardiers, unable to be a child: half werewolf, half ghost[1]. She watched the birds fly in the distance and longed to be one. She had rags for a dress, sharp strokes of a leather strap on her bare arms and went barefoot even in the harshest winters. She ate little from whatever was leftover each night for supper that the Thenardiers did not want to give to the dog.

Sometimes the saints watch over these half-feral creatures, not of this world and their magic is often more powerful than the Faeries. Cosette could do magic occasionally without her having studied, she could understand the languages of the birds[2] and the insects and watch them in fascination. 

When she was on her own and the work was done for the day, then the insects would crawl up to her and she would chop off the flies’ heads with her sword sometimes, but most of the time she would watch their lives with increasing fascination.

During the day a bird perched on the windowsill and hopped towards her, while she washed a stack of dishes or swept the floor. When she ran to fetch water in the mornings, a neighbourhood dog followed her around. The kitten would mewl to get near her when she was knitting but Eponine and Azelma would always grab him and never let him stray near Cosette.

She wept at the thought of being a ghost, no one could see her, no one would know that she was here, did she even have a mother, she did not remember. Sometimes when walking to the woods in daylight to fetch water, she would spend time conversing with the birds around her. 

Once when she talked about her mother being dead, a toad perched near her and listened to her mournful speech before jumping away. A Faerie nearby had been listening to this child. She appeared occasionally, teaching Cosette about Nature and magic. 

Nature was more forgiving than Madame Thenardier. Cosette felt less trapped and less ghost like the farther she moved away from the house. The poor child was trembling with the heavy bucket, so she asked her mother to protect her. Suddenly, she felt her bucket lighten. She looked up and saw a kindly face peering back. She did not know why she trusted the man, but he could see her, the child-ghost who always went unnoticed and unloved.

* * *

Anyone would be forgiven for thinking that Fantine’s story ended here, but they would have to peer closely and if they cared, they would see a rose on her lips not letting her speak and chains on her feet, though they were invisible, that did not let her escape.

Fantine arrived in Faerie with her hands ready to fight to secure a passage back to the world where Cosette was. Her life had given her a certain cynicism and bitterness, which made her laugh when the Faerie gentleman said that he would make her the Queen of Lost Hope, a laughter which even took the gentleman by surprise. She spurned all the Faerie Gentleman’s advances and refused his gifts[3]. And they were more magnificent gifts than she had ever seen in her life.

Faerie itself was delightful and had Fantine been more appreciative of her surroundings, she could have followed her dreams to strange lands or tasted of sweet golden apples that were enchanted, or songs that turned into swallows once they were sung. She saw flowers that could talk and walk like fat geese and were always running towards the sun. She saw twelve princesses who danced each night and sent an entire castle of a Faerie Lord into a powerful enchantment through it. She could have met sirens singing mournful and mirthful dirges in the Faerie lakes. Or she could have eaten pine nuts that reminded one, of the colour green and of prosperity or of the colour blue, and of heartache.

‘You could live a good life in Faerie,’ the Faerie gentleman told her, ‘You would be a queen and command your subjects.’ It was tempting to believe that, since the Faerie gentleman seemed always anxious to do little favours for her. He would order the trees and the bushes to shake their leaves, so that she would always have a path of soft flowers on which to tread. He would summon the Fairies to gently fan her if she was hot and to blow hot air when she was cold. He was going to give her the crown, but that was to prove more difficult, since France had a king already and becoming the queen meant that the Faerie Gentleman would have to kill Louis XVIII and all his successors, which he told Fantine would take some time to plan. 

Some days when the dreams were more terrible, it was easier to believe that she could stay in Lost Hope, the Faerie kingdom, forever.

Fantine however, wanted to find her daughter. She walked from one road to the next, from living in one house that walked to another which could be folded and kept in a purse, always with her gaze towards the stars and a prayer on her lips for Cosette.

The roads in Faerie were known to be treacherous, sometimes leading a traveller on for days in circles or to places which did not exist, and Fantine had often fainted from exhaustion after travelling.

She travelled for years on these roads[4]: human years, not Faerie years. What is a month in Faerie is a lifetime in human years. She had lost count of how many days she had been travelling without much rest. The dreams followed her and sometimes tormented her by shewing the life she could have in Faerie and shewing her a Cosette who did not care about her mother. But she always asked the same question: for someone to shew her the way to Cosette and received no answer in return.

She came across the Faerie River and repeated her question, then she went to the forests and asked the same thing, she made her way to the woodlands and repeated her words. Her persistence amused the elderly woodland Faerie who brought together her companions to listen to this angry human girl tell her story and how she had been cheated most of her life. 

The woodland Faeries offered her gifts, they brought her flowers, they brought her gold and silver, they brought her a gift of voices, but she had only one thing on her mind.

They shewed her a place where there could be a possible entry to the outside world. The Faeries left her with flowers, Marigolds, that she could put in her hair. The flowers loosened the enchantment on her lips and let her speak to them.

She learned the tongue of the Faeries, a sing-song language in which some lullabies have been set. She spent time with them learning their customs and cultures and admiring their dresses made of the finest spun silk[5]. This earned her their trust. The older Faerie instead of placing an enchantment on her, shewed her how to use leaves of a certain tree to fashion light out of and how to detect Faerie magic.

She also introduced Fantine to their magical bread which lessened the effects of weather and her fainting spells. They told her about the many secret ways and entrances into Faerie and how she might find her way out through a mirror. Not finding in her a malicious magician out to destroy their world[6], but rather a young girl alone and ill-used, they had been kind to her.

When the Faerie gentleman returned, Fantine, now learnt in the tricks of the Faeries let him take her to the enchanted balls, which always fatigued her and left her unable to fight her enchantment. This time she slipped away using the magical bread to regain strength and her light to shew her the way out. She ran despite the enchantment on her feet[7]. The enchantment loosened its hold, the further she ran away from the corner road towards the mirrors hoping to decipher the secret language which would take her back to France and to her beloved Cosette. 

* * *

It was there that Eponine found her. When Fantine saw another person, she wept tears of joy. She had been so long in Faerie, that she thought she would never see this sight. Cosette, she shouted, knowing that this young girl could not hear her, but she repeated that word over and over again. I must find Cosette, she mouthed again. Somehow the girl outside the mirror recognized that word.

* * *

Cosette in the Gorbeau House was able to shake the curse[8]. Valjean was both father and mother to her and she grew and flourished so that the spell on her faded almost on its own over time [9]and only the pleasant memories of them looking after the little plot of garden or of learning to read at Gorbeau House remained. 

She developed an affinity to small creatures in the convent, she would spend an hour or two digging up the ground, asking Fauchelevant about the plants and the insects. She made friends with the ladybirds and the snails that she could see and named each one. In the convent she passed notes to her friends by making pieces of paper fly or sending a bird to perch on the shoulder of her dear friends.

* * *

Books of magic were rarely permitted in the convent. Once a brave young Mademoiselle Joly smuggled a book on magic and Cosette spent a day reading up on some spells but unfortunately for her, it was discovered though she and her friends tried their best to hide it. Cosette smiled so sweetly and was so contrite that Mother Innocent did not have the heart to punish her by making her copy Latin for the contraband item, though the book was later banned. She had in this way read about a romance though she did not much understand the story and asked Fauchelevant and Valjean several questions over tea, a fact which amused them greatly, though like her they too did not know enough to satisfy her curiosity and a stream of never ending questions.

Fauchelevant smiled at the child, who moved around their little cottage, from sitting near her dear Papa to pouring tea for her dear uncle, and tactfully changed the subject as he sipped his tea. Cosette had forgotten to put milk in. ‘Cosette my dear child, how are your studies on plants and herbs going?’

This was the moment for Cosette to start talking about the plants that she had been digging up in the garden and the various insects that she had spotted recently. She needed to catalogue them in her new book. Valjean looked at her enthusiastic face and did not have the heart to tell her to run along to her studies.

* * *

She missed Fauchelevant deeply and cried for him when they took him away in a hearse while her two close friends, Beatrix and Georgette consoled her. Shortly after, they came to the garden at Rue Plumet, she had more time to dedicate to the snails and the caterpillars and the butterflies.

She had had a gift from Valjean, a book on magical animals and husbandry, which she read with delight. She also read up on the care of magical creatures and on shape shifting magic, said books having been a present from her friend Mademoiselle Georgette Joly, who like Cosette had left the convent, as she cheerfully explained- to get married. Valjean not understanding much about magic, tried his best to give her an education.

One day, she found a book by Father Mabeuf which talked of plants and herbs and her own garden benefitted from this knowledge. Then, realising that she could do a few spells, she tried shape shifting and succeeded by turning into a wild bird, for a short time.

She had kept up correspondence with the friends from the convent.

Mademoiselle Beatrix Leroux whose Papa was in the merchant navy, sent her quite a few books on magical animals from different countries and Cosette devoured them all.

She was happy spending time in her garden and happy spending time with Valjean. Now and again she wondered about her mother and whether her gift of magic was passed down from her. Valjean, who delighted in her experiments in the garden or in magic, would bow his head and drop a tear at the mention from Cosette of her mother. She longed to see her mother and often raised her eyes in prayers towards heaven, without knowing her mother’s name to cast a spell. 

[1] Legend has it that the King who gave the name of Franks to France was a fifteen-year-old, who had been visited by Faeries. Children can more easily acquire magic. 

[2] The famous Raven King of England, John Uskglass is known for being able to talk to ravens. His childhood was also spent as a feral youngling among the fairies. In the seventeenth Century, Lady Catherine de Boucy, of Normandy could talk to animals and wrote about it. Some magicians from Germany have written about being able to talk to and understand animals. ‘On the Care and Husbandry of Animals’ by Johanne Ingles contains several chapters talking about knowing how to speak the animal’s language.

[3] Faerie gifts are often strange and can take any shape. Some fairies have been known to literally gift someone a box made of heartache, or a voice, taken from a living person.

[4] Faerie weather can be treacherous and magical and unsuitable for humans who are not accustomed to its strangeness. Sometimes bad weather can only be relieved by spells. Most of the time, Fantine found, it was the dreams which followed her like a cloud and caused her head to ache and for her to faint several times.

[5] Faeries like humans have different cultures and customs, according to the different places that they live in. The Faerie has been mapped much like Fantine’s native France into separate provinces or departments. Some Faeries are also part of specific geographic areas, such as the Rivers or the Mountains or the forests. No complete study has been made of each language and customs since it is very hard to walk into Faerie and to make the Faeries trust you though some magicians have mapped out partial areas of Faerie.

[6] For centuries, magicians and Faeries have had an uneasy relationship. Magicians who entered Fairy realms and were welcomed, sometimes sought to destroy them and the Faeries. No written books exist on this particular history because it presents the magicians in an unfavourable light but there have been several Fairies who have talked about this and of mistrusting humans because of that. 

[7] Some books mention that if anyone can trick a Faerie, the Faerie has no chance but to let them go. This was the case in 17th Century when a gentleman successfully tricked a Faerie into letting him escape. M. Savrolles is believed to posses no claim to magic, except this odd event of being tricked by Faeries and successfully returning to his native Grenoble. Though his claims are dubious since his recollections of Faerie do not line up with the maps of Faerie roads that have subsequently been drawn by magicians who visited the roads like Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, who were quite proud of the maps they drew. Faerie places however can move, so that rivers can take the place of woodlands, etc. so there is no guarantee that the maps we draw are accurate.

[8] It is not known whether Cosette was born knowing magic or if the curse placed on her in her childhood ensured that she had magic and could perform spells easily. 

[9] Curses can sometimes fade, as the magic used to sustain them is frowned upon even in Faerie, spells of good wishes or fortune may also fade over time. It is also possible that Fantine’s protection and prayer enabled her to fight off the curse.


	5. Through a Looking Glass Darkly

Eponine looked at the mirror closely. The vision of the poor woman had dissolved into a dark mist. She studied the intricate patterns of the frame, hoping to find some clues to rescue the woman and came across ancient writing on the frame which she could not read.

She dragged the mirror, towards Father Mabeuf’s house and reached the unassuming lodgings, out of breath from her Herculean task. Father Mabeuf was standing outside with a letter in his hands, talking to his plants. 

‘They are not publishing our second book and we have already spent most of the first book’s allowance. I can't provide you with good soil and nurture. It breaks my heart, but we have no money, Mother Plutarch and I. If only I had a few francs.’ He stared mournfully at the roses growing around him and sighed, before returning inside heartbroken, while Mother Plutarch comforted him. ‘There were seeds to be bought and plants to be taken care of and medicines to be extracted. I suppose I shall have to sell what books remain, Mother Plutarch.’

He stood for a while staring at his bookshelf, which had begun filling up. An ache went through him at the prospect of seeing it empty once more. 

Eponine placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked at her too, as a man coming out of his reveries, ‘What is it you want? Who are you?’ 

‘Father Mabeuf, it is me, Eponine. I need your help reading these scrolls on this ancient mirror.’

Father Mabeuf shook his glasses out to read the ancient runes on the mirror.

‘This mirror can shew you whatever you want to see and take you through the Faerie Roads to different places.’ He said, peering closely to parse Latin with his bad eyesight. He rubbed the ancient writing gently and it erased itself from the mirror, before reappearing again. 

‘There is someone trapped in Faerie and I can see her through the mirror, she’s trying to find her way back towards light, but she keeps getting lost in the mists and I don’t know how to help her.’ Eponine was trying to hold back her tears. She did not want to fail after having come so close, when she could help that woman in the mirror. 

Father Mabeuf withdrew a book. He opened it and started searching among several spells.

‘Can I go to Faerie to rescue her?’ The question was said so simply, but Father Mabeuf fell to pondering the answer for several minutes and did not look up. 

That would be far more dangerous and riskier proposition than any spell I could suggest.’ He said slowly, hesitatingly, as if part of him wished to go to Faerie himself. 'You could get lost in Faerie and then where would we be?'

Eponine gave a sad raspy cough and muttered to herself, ‘What does it matter if I live or die? I’m already a ghost, a monster of a woman.’

Truth be told, Eponine looked quite beautiful in the light and with an earnest expression on her face. The more she travelled towards light, the prettier she became, even though she did not think of herself that way.

‘If you can see the woman in the mirror, then the magic on her must be waning. The next time we see her in the mirror you should try saying this spell in conjunction with the words on the mirror.’ Mabeuf pointed to a line of letters and the words on the mirror.

Eponine gazed in the mirror as the mist cleared and she saw the sad figure walking in the distance.

‘Quick.’ She said thrusting the paper towards Father Mabeuf as well, who stood back muttering, ‘I…I’ve rarely had occasion for using magic.’

There was an urgency in Eponine's voice as she began reciting the spell, causing Father Mabeuf to hesitatingly join in where her magic was still weak or where she could not pronounce the Latin sentences.

The mirror glowed darkly, the storm inside overflowed to their tiny cottage. Outside, the sky cracked, the wind raged and the stones hummed. Eponine was calling on the magic of the forests, the stones and the skies to help her. 

With a deep breath, she reached inside the mirror and grabbed the hand of the woman struggling to swim against the current.

The young woman stumbled out of the mirror, soaked to the bone and shivering like a rescued alley cat. She did not believe that she had managed to escape from Faerie and only on being reassured that she was no longer there, did she take Father Mabeuf's hand and collapse on the chair. 

Eponine too was trailing water everywhere and coughing loudly. The storm outside the house lifted as suddenly as it had appeared, and calm reigned once again except for the plants and the trees which continued to chatter for a while. Father Mabeuf looked shaken but also surprized that he had managed to perform the spell. Mother Plutarch who did not understand much of what was going on, came with a thin blanket for the young woman.

The woman had a fever. 

‘Fantine. My name is Fantine,’ she croaked feebly, ‘The mayor was going to find my daughter, Cosette, but the policeman Javert was there and I thought he was there to arrest me… I know him....I often have to make sure that Inspector Javert is not displeased. In the work that we do, the inspector never leaves you alone. He is always asking for your papers and such. The rich, bourgeois gentleman put snow down my back, which made me cry out in pain, I did not say nothing to him to warrant that, but Javert arrested me. What is a poor, destitute girl to do, I ask you?' She coughed loudly even as silence filled up the room, 'I only took that work so I could pay for my daughter to be sent to me. The Thenardiers they kept increasing their demands. Where else was I supposed to get a 100 francs for my daughter, I ask you?' Fantine paused and looked at her audience, 'The mayor saved me from prison but he...could not bring Cosette to me. I don’t remember much of what happened then. Inspector Javert moved towards the Mayor and had grabbed him by the collar when I fainted. I had prayed to God to take me instead of Cosette, to keep her in health. I thought he had listened to my prayer.’ the tears were running down Fantine's eyes thick and fast, ‘I have missed her, I have missed my daughter. So many years, I’ve been walking around searching for her, from mirror to mirror, road to road, always seeing something that is not real, always tired.’

Fantine had recovered some colour in her cheeks, though she was still coughing loudly. There was much of youth and beauty about her still, which was suddenly visible by the fading light of the sun streaming from the open door. 

Eponine looked at her with a strange expression on her face. ‘I know where the girl, where Cosette is. Perhaps it would be better when you have recovered, for me to take you to her. I will let her know you are here; I will write the letter for you.’ Fantine clasped her hand and kissed it joyfully, her face showing her gratitude at this kindness, as Eponine sat down with a sheet of paper. 

With the letter in hand, she would leave wordlessly towards the house of the Lark, as soon as Fantine had recovered from her fever. Once she had taken Monsieur Marius to shew him the house at Rue Plumet, now she would bring news of the mother. She could imagine the expression on Cosette’s face and how it would light up with joy. The lark would sing and smile again. Instead of a wild agonising feeling creeping inside her making her unhappy, Eponine was relieved to find that she felt a happiness which was rare with her. She would reunite a mother with her daughter. She would make sure someone had her happy ending. She ran faster down the road in her bare feet, tears streaming down her face.

In the window of the bakery she paused to look at herself, and lo! There was her reflection staring back at her with a smile that she could not hide.

She no longer felt like a ghost, no longer felt like drowning. Their combined magic and Eponine almost entering Faerie had brought her back to life or perhaps released her from the Fairy Gentleman’s magic. She spent several minutes gazing at herself, at her hands, at her face which she could touch and feel. No longer did that dreadful cold that seeped everywhere and entered her soul plague her- though her chemise was still thin for her to shiver. She laughed quietly to herself and started running faster. 

* * *

Fantine had begun a little sewing as she recovered from the fever, her hands unsteady and shaking slightly as she thought about a little dress she could make Cosette.

‘But my dear Cosette is no longer a young child. How she would have grown.’ Fantine thought, trying to make sense of how much time would have passed and how old Cosette must be, as she cut the pattern up. 

Mother Plutarch had brought her tea infused with herbs from Father Mabeuf's garden, while Father Mabeuf tinkered outside with his plants and brought her the brightest flower he could find so that she could pin it on her old dress and put in her hair if she wished it. Fantine did so, looking more and more like her old self as she did. 


	6. The Garden at Rue Plumet

Eponine had not yet become used to being a person again in the span of a week. She felt the sharp pains as if she were walking on knives, whereas before she could float a little above the ground. The cold did not leave, for she felt the stirrings of winter in her thin chemise and skirt and the harsh winds blowing made her concentrate on taking refuge in any warm corner she could find. 

The biggest ache was in her heart, she felt more invested in _her_ happiness, _the lark’s _happiness. She felt a vague undercurrent of another emotion, a longing for someplace to call home where she would grow flowers, read books and go to the theatre with Azelma and Gavroche every Thursday. She felt angry at Cosette for possessing that happiness. 

She coughed loudly as she drew near Rue Plumet with a letter in her hand. A correspondence for Cosette from her mother written in Eponine's hand. She gripped the letter tightly, her hands shaking, and a tear fell from her eyes.

In the next moment, she was talking to Toussaint, who had opened the door. Cosette’s chatter reached her ears from inside.

‘There is a letter for the mistress of the house, Cosette Fauchelevant. Tell her that she must expect a visitor tomorrow.’ Eponine said in a raspy voice handing over a piece of paper before disappearing in the shadows while Toussaint looked around surprized and Cosette came to the door, asking who had called and why they had left in a hurry. 

* * *

‘I did not see Cosette when I delivered the letter.’ Eponine said avoiding eye contact, as she returned to Father Mabeuf’s house. This was a lie, Eponine had seen Cosette and had wished to avoid her. Strange emotions had taken hold of her. She resented Cosette, happiness. She would draw Monsieur Marius away, she decided. Why should Cosette have both her mother and that kind Monsieur Marius? 

Fantine tried to raise herself from her bed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She steadied herself but nearly fainted. Eponine rushed to her side and supported her.

‘You mustn’t worry yourself. Cosette is content. And she will be waiting for you, as soon as you have recovered your strength. It has only been a few days since your ordeal ended.’ There were tears in Eponine’s eyes as she said that.

Fantine nodded and sank back in bed. Years of spending her life in Faerie had taken a toll on her health- she was prone to fainting spells. 

‘You are so kind to me.’ She murmured, ‘You helped me when I was stuck in the mirror and did not know how to return, I don’t know how to repay you.’

‘I was the girl on the swing, playing with my sister.’ Eponine blurted out, ‘When you left Cosette with our family. I thought you should know- I am not kind. I am the daughter of those Thenardiers.’

Fantine’s face turned pale but she did not say anything.

‘I want to tell you.’ Eponine said getting up and walking around in agitation, ‘My Pa and Mama, they took away the clothes that you sent for Cosette. They gave them to us, me and my sister to wear.’

Tears rolled down Fantine’s cheeks.

‘I was not very kind to Cosette,’ Eponine continued trying to wipe off her tears, ‘I didn’t like her. I wanted you to know, I don’t deserve your kindness.’ She went and sat next to Fantine. ‘But your little lark is happy now. I sometimes see her walking by with the servant or with an old Gentleman, her father who took her away from our inn to live with him.’

Fantine muttered Mayor Madeleine’s name and raised her eyes to the heavens in gratitude.

‘She’s a great lady and lives in a house and dresses very prettily. I have no dress but the one you see me in. How our fortunes have changed, I sometimes laugh at it and other times weep. Sometimes, there isn’t anything to eat for me and my sister, sometimes we live under the bridge even when it’s cold.’

Eponine looked down at her dress as she said that and smiled bitterly.

Fantine was crying and muttering something to herself. After a while, she took Eponine’s hand and embraced her.

‘I was afraid that you would hate me.’ Eponine began shyly moving closer to Fantine. There was a feeling of warmth in Fantine's person and her words which drew Eponine in. 

Fantine shook her head and smiled, ‘I have seen much suffering in my life and so have you. It does not do to dwell on hatred, what terrible nourishment it would be.’

Eponine had fresh tears in her eyes as Fantine kissed her on the forehead. ‘You are Cosette’s age. You are like my daughter too. I shall always think of you as such.’

* * *

The next morning Fantine was up just as the darkest part of the night faded to reveal the light, bustling around to gather her meagre belongings and make herself presentable.

She brushed her golden hair which had grown much longer now that she was free of Faerie magic. She thanked Mother Plutarch and Father Mabeuf for their kindness, gifting Mother Plutarch a blanket which she had sewed and a cushion for Father Mabeuf to rest his tired feet on.

She was apologetic that she could not do much more for their kindness. Mother Plutarch hugged her several times and Father Mabeuf wished her well and gave her several flowers from the garden which were in bloom. She tied her bonnet and resting on Eponine’s arm for support, they set off for Rue Plumet. 

* * *

Cosette had risen and completing her toilette, dressing herself in the latest fashion even as dawn was beginning to spread its thin arms to kiss the sky. Toussaint smiled at the way Cosette kept looking at the clock waiting for the arrival of an especial guest. The clock struck nine in the morning and there was a knock on the door. Fantine was standing in the garden waiting. Cosette walked hesitatingly towards her. 

‘Cosette, my darling child.’ Fantine whispered tears streaming from her eyes. ‘So it is really you my child? I have waited for so many years to see you, to have you near me.’

Cosette rushed into her mother’s arms crying, ‘I knew you would come, mother. I always asked God to send you to me. I knew it, I knew the day would come.’

In the outpouring of tears and hugs, Eponine slipped outside quietly. She was rubbing tears from her eyes herself as she walked and looked back at the tender scene of the mother embracing her child and the child content in her mother’s arms. 

‘I need to thank the angel who supported me and shewed me the way,’ Fantine called out Eponine’s name but she was nowhere in sight. Cosette sent Toussaint to search the streets outside but they were deserted too.

Eponine wandered near the Seine for several hours, unable to stop crying and angry at herself for doing so. She wandered back to Rue Plumet to find that Thenardier and his cronies were planning to place a curse on the house to rob it.

* * *

‘Didn’t I say it was a biscuit.’ Eponine told them angrily, ‘I shall report all of you to the Cinque Dragownes court for false magic if you don’t clear off.’

‘And what are they going to do?’ Babet and Brujon laughed, ‘Stop us from using magic?’

‘Careful or I shall cut you,’ Montparnasse whispered to Eponine showing the glint of steel.

‘Eponine get away, you’re not needed here.’ Thenardier said and then turned to the group who were getting impatient, ‘she can normally be so clever.’

‘I tell you there is no one there, Pa.’ Eponine stubbornly stood her ground and started chanting a spell. Soon flowers began growing around them, which frightened the Patron Minette. 

Your daughter’s using magic against us.’ Claquesous murmured, ‘Try something to counter her spell.’

Babet tried to read the only spell he knew- a curse he had picked up from the fairy gentleman, but the strength of Eponine’s magic was such that he found himself thrust into his own curse which formed a cloud of darkness around him. Claquesous who tried to help him also fell into the power of the spell, as did Thenardier. Montparnasse who had wizened up to the situation was luckier. He walked into the darkness in the hopes of rescuing his friends, not wanting to be left behind. 

The skies cracked and growled, the winds howled, the trees murmured threateningly, causing Babet to exclaim that it was a terrible omen to be surrounded by clouds and eternal darkness and that they should leave and try to break the curse as best as they could.

Eponine heaved a sigh of relief once they were gone, her knees gave way and her strength left her. She did not know how she had worked the magic or that she could place a curse so strong. She looked towards the garden at Rue Plumet and smiled sadly to herself, calling herself a guard dog, but still lingered to see Fantine and Cosette sitting on the bench outside.

She hummed a sad strain of music as she walked away from there, still shaken and wincing at each step, still pleased at herself for what her magic had wrought. 

* * *

Valjean had been surprized to find Cosette taking turns with an unknown person in the garden after sunset while Toussaint prepared supper. He murmured the name and gazed at the heavens in prayer as Cosette with a smile and a look of contentment brought her mother closer. Fantine in her turn, called out to Monsieur Madeleine in a state of confusion. In a moment though, she had fainted and had to be carried inside.

Valjean’s first thought had been disbelief and shock. He had watched Fantine die, he was transported back to those last few moments as he watched her sleeping- the sunlight streaming on her fluttering eyelids. Cosette would not let go of her mother’s hand and sat beside her, attentive to Fantine’s every comfort. Toussaint went around peeking fondly from time to time at this little scene and wiping tears with her apron.

Valjean felt conflicted- Had he been given a second chance at saving someone’s life? He was prepared to not let it go to waste. He would make sure Fantine and Cosette wanted for nothing. A thought occurred to him as he watched Cosette, Cosette was happy and radiant- she had her mother. Did she really need an ex-convict to take care of her now that she had Fantine? He felt guilt at the thought of leaving Fantine without any support, he had already neglected her situation once, he could not do so knowingly again. He must take care of her and Cosette too for as long as he could, there had been a reason God had given her a new life and had brought her to Rue Plumet.

And then he did need Cosette in his life if only for a little while- he had grown so used to her laughter and her chatter, she brightened everything with her touch. She was all the world to him- he told himself she was Fantine’s daughter- but he also knew the world which had spit and chewed Fantine once, would do so again and he felt he still owed a debt to Fantine that he needed to repay. Valjean did not contemplate deeply into how Fantine had been brought to life- he was capable of accepting philosophy without going deeper into it- he bowed his head and thanked God for bringing her back and that was his entire prayer.

Perhaps he would isolate himself even more- live more in his lodge and let Fantine and Cosette share in the happiness- he thought. I do not deserve to be part of it; despite repeating that to himself he felt a sense of peace. Cosette was reunited with her mother- his dear child was radiant and full of a tender light. Cosette looked at Valjean standing in the distance, walked to him and took his hand in hers and kissed it softly.

‘Papa.’ She murmured. Valjean’s happiness was complete. 

* * *

Fantine woke up and looked at the scene gathered around her. She gathered Cosette in her arms and looked at Mayor Madeleine who was standing with his head bowed in the distance. 

‘Mayor Madeleine, why do you stand there silently? You saved Cosette from those deceitful Thenardiers, you took good care of her. Why don’t you let me give thanks to you.’ Fantine gestured to the kindly gentleman in front of her. 

Madeleine shook his head and his voice was mournful, ‘I do not deserve your gratitude, I could not bring Cosette to you in time. And I have only done what anyone would do. She in turn filled my life with riches because she loved me as a father and through her gentle love, I was saved. She became everything to me.’ Aside in a low tone he added, ‘And I am not a Mayor, only a poor old tree pruner from Favrolles who was condemned to a life of hatred by society and saved from it by a kind bishop and a small child who is staring at me.’

Cosette who had been listening put a hand on her Papa’s shoulders, ‘Papa, please tell me the truth of how you rescued me? My mother calls you Mayor Madeleine, were you a mayor once? Papa, please tell me about yourself.’

Valjean gave a sad, soft smile and looked towards Fantine who nodded encouragingly.

‘Please Papa, I want to know about your life, you never talk about this. Were you really a tree pruner, how did you become a Mayor?’ Cosette kissed his sunbeaten hand in encouragement.

Valjean’s thoughts went back to the seven orphaned children he had tried hard to locate during the time he was in prison. He felt that now Cosette had her mother, it would not hurt to talk about the past, then she could decide whether she wanted to stay with him. He would leave the decision to her. He felt better as soon as he had decided on this course of action, but his eyes filled with tears. He sat down on the bench beside Cosette and after a long time unburdened his heart to her as she listened.

Daylight was beginning to lighten the edges of the horizon, when they stopped talking. Valjean bowed his head again, ‘Now you know, I am not your father, only an ex-convict. You mustn’t call me Papa, but Monsieur Jean or plain Jean if you like, for I am one of the poor. I shall give you and your mother an allowance and this house. For myself, I only need a bed of straw or hay and enough sustence to keep life. I shall withdraw from your lives. I am responsible for your suffering Fantine though I have tried to make amends.’

‘Papa, you are my Papa. You are a father to me.’ Cosette’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at Fantine, ‘It was because of you that I am no longer that scared looking child at the inn. I learned to read, I learned to be kind, I learned to love, because of you. Papa, please don’t say you should exclude yourself from our lives now that Maman is here, I shall never call you Monsieur Jean. You are my Papa. You were my Papa when you taught me how to read at Gorbeau House and how to grow plants at the convent. Be my Papa once more. Call me, your dear child like you used to.’

The pain in Cosette’s voice caused Valjean to exclaim, ‘My dear child! Forgive me, an old man who loves you more than he can express with words.'

Fantine’s eyes too were sparkling with tears, ‘Please stay Mayor Madeleine. Oh, but you will always be Mayor Madeleine for me. I shall always be grateful for your kindness.’

She had not gotten many words out when she fainted. The excitement of the day had been too much for her in her present state. 

Cosette hurriedly asked Toussaint to help carry her mother to the bedroom. Valjean stood deep in thought, only one path stood clear to him, he must look after Fantine and Cosette, they needed him. And maybe he needed them too. His heart filled with love as he watched Cosette tend to her mother.

* * *

The Garden was delightful to Cosette for her mother would now sit beside her as she talked about finding new creatures big and small in the garden. 

Cosette shewed the birds she could summon by magic to her mother and Fantine in turn related to her of her time wandering in Faerie. Cosette’s eyes widened as she listened, she had sometimes dreamed of Faerie and of a magic house, which was crooked in all the ways a house shouldn’t be. She had also sometimes dreamed of a lady who lived there though she did not know her name. It wasn’t even a house, Cosette was convinced, nevertheless she had dreamed of it and of magic.

She had also another secret to share with her mother, that of Marius visiting her. She could keep no secrets from her mother. So, she talked about the Luxemburg Gardens and the note under the stone and their meeting every night in this very garden, where they talked of sweet things to each other. Cosette blushed as she told this. Fantine’s thoughts immediately turned to inquiring about Marius’ character and if he was indeed going to turn out to be like Tholomyes. She wanted her daughter to stay away from men like him. There was determination and anger like her daughter had never seen, in her eyes. 

Cosette laughed and assured her that Marius had told her he loved her and wanted to marry her and that she must wait while he sorted things out.

‘There is no reason why this meeting cannot be in the morning in front of everyone then.’

Cosette paused as if she had not considered this, ‘I shall ask Marius. We haven’t done anything, only kissed once and he promises he is ardently in love with me and I gave him my word that I was in love with him.’

‘If you are in love as much as he says, then he should come meet me and obtain my blessing and play at his courtship in the garden during daylight, that is more respectable.’

Cosette blushed as Fantine took her daughter’s hand in hers and laughed, ‘Oh my dear Cosette, my poor innocent child.’


	7. A Tempest of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valjean attempts to find Father Mabeuf and Marius attempts to deal with matters of love.

Jean Valjean woke from his dream where he was adrift at sea and looked around him. The night was still in its darkest part. He stood up to walk in his modest lodge and gazed at the stars above. He’d known the name Father Mabeuf sounded familiar when Fantine had related the story of her escape from Faerie.

Father Mabeuf was the old gentleman he had met several times while purchasing books for Cosette. He had not known that Monsieur Mabeuf had been carving out a living in wretched poverty. His pacing grew more fervent, he must offer Father Mabeuf and Mother Plutarch his house, his rooms or if not, someplace to live. Perhaps he could give them a place of their own, where Father Mabeuf could tinker as much as he liked with books and magic. He avoided looking at the stars, somewhere the Bishop of Digne would disapprove of him not saving Fantine’s rescuer sooner. He remembered offering to give Father Mabeuf more money once and he had refused Valjean’s offer. Another time, Valjean had offered to buy some books so that Father Mabeuf could keep them. And Mabeuf had refused that as well. He had even at one time shared the knowledge about seeds and plants and received helpful suggestions in turn. Though Father Mabeuf had not accepted Monsieur Fauchelevant’s charity, he had accepted kind words and conversation and they had spent a pleasant half hour together. 

All this had been before he knew Father Mabeuf as a scholar of magic and Fantine’s rescuer. It had been a few months since Fantine had come into their life, and he chastised himself for having left this matter for so long. For not having inquired into Father Mabeuf’s affairs and tried to help. 

When daylight broke, the passers-by would have been surprized to see a man in an old coat standing near the stall at the market where Father Mabeuf came almost every week, a book or two in his arms. No Father Mabeuf was in sight, the stranger lingered for several hours, passing coins to beggars furtively while he waited. No sign of Father Mabeuf appeared and the stranger disappeared, no one could tell where.

Jean Valjean walked in the garden with cast-down eyes. He knew now that Father Mabeuf must have come here to sell his own books. He felt even more ashamed that he had not talked to Father Mabeuf when he had a chance.

It did not occur to him to ask the one person who would be able to locate Father Mabeuf. Cosette. 

Nearly a week later, he was watching Cosette rummaging through her books to find a spell when the thought occurred to him again.

‘Cosette, can a locator spell be cast to find someone?’

Cosette thought about everything she had read so far and nodded. ‘You need to know the name of the person you want to find.’

‘Father Mabeuf.’ Valjean said simply.

‘Oh, Father Mabeuf! Didn’t we buy several books from him, didn’t he rescue Mother? I will visit Father Mabeuf and Mother Plutarch. My time for the past few months became occupied with taking care of mother. Mother said they were living in poverty. Father, we must help them.’ Cosette touched her father’s arm and Valjean’s resolve to find Father Mabeuf and Mother Plutarch deepened.

The spell required darkness for the light to shine through and point the way to the person you wished to find. Cosette retreated to the darkest part of the garden.

She was never one to be afraid of shadows or dark, having spent all her spare time in the garden at Rue Plumet. She smiled as she recalled her dearest friend Mademoiselle Beatrix, now Madame P____, was afraid of the dark as a child in the convent and how they had often slept side by side only after an hour of telling each other stories. 

Cosette, her eyes bright and gleaming whispered a few words causing a bright light to shine in the garden and vanish as suddenly, shewing Father Mabeuf in his small cottage at Rue Montparnasse.

* * *

While Valjean and Cosette searched for Mabeuf, somewhere else, Marius Pontmercy was in a turmoil. Cholera had passed him by in thoughts of Cosette and long walks towards the garden where the object of his love spent most of her time, but this new thing seemed almost a calamity. Cosette, had recently found her mother. Not that Cosette finding her mother was a calamity. Marius wished he could find his father in that manner.

That much he was ready to believe; people found their relatives all the time. Lesgles had even found a relative he did not know he had, or so he said, when he had inherited his father’s post office. He promptly lost several distant relatives, when he lost the post office and the little land his father left him, but that was another matter. It wasn’t the finding of a parent that was the problem, Marius reasoned. It was having to submit to the ordeal of being scrutinized by one. And be rejected as unsuitable.

He stared at the letter in horror. Cosette’s mother had invited him. There was Cosette’s pretty writing, but the message. Good God! Must he be scrutinized by parents who had risen from the dead? And what were the rules of Faerie? Did they accept young men without a penny to their name? Did they take his soul in exchange? He had so many questions that he spent the whole night pacing the floor of the lodgings he shared with Courfeyrac

Marius shared all these thoughts with his friends, the next evening. He was prepared to die for love or else not to have his love, but to have his love be an actual Faerie. That seemed a most cruel hand of fate. What was he supposed to bring? Do the Faeries even have a need for sustenance?

‘All women are faeries.’ Grantaire had murmured without missing a beat, ‘Monsieur Pontmercy, allow me to induct you in the manner of Faeries.’ Saying so, he launched into a discussion about women and beauty that made Marius pace even more rapidly around Courfeyrac’s rooms, making intermittent noises of frustration. 

‘Do you intend to wear out the carpets? Come, we shall think no more of this. I shall treat you to supper.’ Courfeyrac grinned, straightened Marius’ tie and patted his shoulder. ‘Just be yourself. Magic or not, I am sure they will appreciate a Pontmercy.’

‘If they do take your soul, will you tell me how being undead is?’ Prouvaire chimed hopefully as Marius, taking a seat on the sopha, buried his head in the pillow. Bahorel was surprized at how reluctant Marius was; was not this a meeting much more exciting than a regular courtship? He admired the story and wished to meet the mother to tell her so frankly. The girl- Marius still would not speak her name in public. The unknown girl’s mother had shown great courage in trying to free herself from Faerie. There was a story there, Bahorel thought stroking his beard if only he had been a writer. If only he had met the Faerie, Prouvaire lamented from the sopha, agonising over how many questions he would ask the Faerie about their history and their lands. Bahorel would not confirm if he had ever met a Faerie but looked knowingly towards Prouvaire.

After much unhelpful comments and staring at the bookcase for hours, which contained several romance novels and a few books on legal studies, none alas, that could help him- nothing pertaining to magic or the Fae. Marius accepted Courfeyrac’s invitation for supper, although he scarcely touched the chicken and potato salad that he had ordered.

Morning came far too soon for his liking. He tried to distract himself in studying, since Courfeyrac had been busy with his other activities all day. But all he could do was stare at the book without taking the words in. The bell chimes from the Church of Saint-Merry sounded half past five in the evening, as he sighed and gave his coat a hopeful pat before putting it on. In a few more minutes, he had walked towards Rue Plumet, his palms sweating, his throat dry.

In the end he had taken some advice from Prouvaire about penning a poem should his words fail him, even shewed his verses to Prouvaire, who had readily made a few corrections. Prouvaire had offered to give him a lyre so he could sing, but that plan would not have worked on account of Marius not knowing how to play the lyre or to sing. At any rate, that was more mortification than he was prepared to take in one day. He entered the garden, the soft beams of sunlight on his face and heard laughter and singing from the house. 

Cosette had been playing the piano for her mother’s amusement. There was a pause and muffled laughter. Marius felt a strong urge towards jealousy and resentment, which he pushed away. The door was opened and there stood Cosette in all her radiance. Not even the sun could dim the light that shone around her. Her beauty was magnified by her laughter. Marius had never seen her this joyful. She took his hand and led him inside to where Fantine was convalescing.

Marius stood solemnly by, until Cosette nudged him forward. Fantine was propped up on pillows with a smiling look for the young man.

Marius cleared his throat, ‘Erm.’

Cosette giggled, ‘He is shy, mother.’

This caused Marius to blush till the roots of his hair and forget his general reluctance and the air of solemnity he had intended to employ as a deference to Cosette’s mother being abducted by Faeries.

‘I am not!’ his face turned scarlet, ‘That is…’ he looked apologetically at Fantine, ‘I…am pleased to meet you…Madame Fauchelevant…' At a shake of head from Cosette, he changed the sentence, 'No….Cosette’s mother.’

‘Fantine.’ Fantine smiled gesturing the young man to take a seat. Cosette was full of energy, flying around the room, rearranging everything to make her mother comfortable and also making sure that Fantine saw Marius in a favourable light.

Fantine began congratulating the young love birds and speaking fondly of Cosette being a baby, ‘You were a clever little baby with the softest chubby cheeks, who fell asleep easily.’ Fantine said, looking at her daughter with love. Cosette blushed and changed the subject, she asked her mother how she fell in love. Fantine spoke of her past with a wistful smile, ‘But I am more hopeful of the future, with you, my children.’

‘But you were never married?’ Marius asked stiffly. 

Fantine smiled at Marius’ expression and shook her head, there was sadness mingled in it.

‘No, he abandoned us. I have never thought of that matter since then. Monsieur Fauchelevant is Cosette’s father.’

Cosette’s eyes shone brightly at the mention of her Papa and she kissed Fantine on the forehead, who clasped her hand.

‘Play a melody, anything that you were playing? What is it called?’ Marius said abruptly changing the subject as he rose from the sopha and stood beside the piano. For some reason he was greatly conscious of his elbows at that moment, and of his arms generally being all angles that stuck out awkwardly.

Cosette, who perhaps out of a peevishness that had settled in her, or a wish to be contrarian, shut the lid on the piano. She had understood the slight to her mother.

‘Excuse me, but I do not wish to. At any rate, I cannot play very well, a few lessons at the convent does not amount to a lot.’

Marius looked sullen. He had counted on the piano to fill in for conversation. He began to think of topics to talk about, leaving an extended pause hanging in the air. The visit had come to an unfortunate conclusion, he thought, because his pride was at stake, he could not leave, but he certainly needed time to process the information he had received: Fantine, a young unmarried mother. Cosette, not Monsieur Fauchelevant’s child as he had supposed, but a natural daughter of someone. Cosette, an illegitimate issue. And Fantine a working mother, a poor woman with no known family. Could he marry someone like that? He needed a moment to clear his head and excused himself to step outside in the garden.

Cosette rushed after him, ‘Marius, wait.’

‘Marius turned round, his face white as a sheet.

‘Well,’ Cosette folded her arms, in the dim light, she looked enchantingly pretty. ‘Are you going to judge us? And what is your judgement, Monsieur Le Baron? Can you not love me as I am? Is it my mother’s fault that that man…I shall never call him my father, left us when I was little? Is it my mother’s fault for being in love? And you and society will judge her for that? For no fault of her own? For how she worked hard all her life and was treated unfairly? For how she never gave up and passed through Faerie for my sake?’ 

Marius had no answer, but tears in his eyes, ‘Cosette, I must beg forgiveness for my moment.’

‘Do you mean it Marius? Oh, my dearest, I knew it. Let us call this our first misunderstanding and let us resolve not to have many more like these, by telling each other everything.’ Cosette hugged Marius and then feeling suddenly shy, she stood quietly by.

‘May I kiss you?’ Marius asked finally, ‘To er…seal our understanding.’

‘Oh Marius!’ Cosette said, before she leaned into the kiss. 

They entered laughing and smiling, which caused Fantine to relax.

‘Mother.’ Cosette smiled.

‘Mother.’ Marius echoed her, causing Fantine to cry with joy.

Cosette sat down at the piano, her skirt rustling slightly, as she played a joyful melody, her keys going lightly over the piano.

‘Do you play, Marius?’ Fantine asked

Marius shook his head, ‘Ah…no! Prouvaire tried to teach me how to play the lyre just before I came, I am progressing very splendidly. Soon I shall even be able to figure out what the strings are there for.’

This brought laughter. Marius more at ease, began answering Fantine’s questions with more enthusiasm as they all took their tea, which had not been enchanted, Marius ascertained. Fantine had found out that Marius had lost his father and that his grandfather had kept all his father’s letters from him in his childhood and her eyes grew soft. She also learned of his friend Courfeyrac, with whom he was lodging currently and of Marius' acquaintance with Father Mabeuf. 

‘The church warden!’ Marius exclaimed, a little too forcefully. ‘He has been a kind friend to me too. I never knew he was such an enthusiast of magic. I will endeavour to convey my gratitude to him. Do you really know magic? How does that work?’

Cosette laughed and recited a spell: a bird perched on the windowsill landed on Marius’ shoulder and began nibbling his ear. She laughed at the look on Marius’ face, bravely trying to suffer through this experience and clicked her tongue until the bird hopped onto her shoulder.

‘He is building a nest for his family just by my window. I talk to him often. This is my fiancé Marius, François. Marius, this is François, the best robin in the whole world.’ Cosette paused to consider, ‘I do not know how I do magic, there are books that tell you how. I suppose you speak words and then it happens. I will shew you how to find creatures in the garden through magic.’

Marius who had been in the middle of enjoying a delicious tea cake, hastily stood up, nearly dropping the saucer to the ground. It felt to him that, at this very moment, he wished for the floor to open and swallow him. But he managed to follow Cosette into the garden and spent a delightful hour listening to her talk of identifying the small creatures and taking care of plants passionately. 

She turned to Marius with a bug in her hand, a tiny creature with a green armour and sharp pincers, and said, ‘Oh Marius, let us always tell each other everything from now on.’ 

Later in the evening as Fantine sewed and looked outside through the window, she told Toussaint, ‘Well, he seems an earnest though a shy young man. I was afraid he would be too much like Tholomyes, and I would have to turn him out,’ she smiled- the smile that contained inordinate sadness within.

The sun was beginning to set and Marius and Cosette appeared as silhouettes, which Fantine watched over. ‘I have never thought of him and now suddenly, I was filled with a rage. Were Cosette and I not worth staying for? He was not good enough for me.’

You are far too good enough for the likes of him. Good riddance I say, to scum like him.’ Toussaint nodded in agreement as she folded the laundry.

Fantine shook her head, and smiled, ‘Look how happy these two are. Let us look to the future. And bury the past, deep within.’

The sky outside rumbled and lightning flashed in the distance. 

‘Good Lord, Mother.’ Toussaint had started calling Fantine, Mother, ‘You best not be following after Cosette, dabbling in magic.’

Fantine laughed, ‘I assure you I have no powers of magic. It does look as if it will start to rain. I hope the children are back from the garden.’

Cosette’s face was beaming when she entered, ‘Oh mother, Marius was full of questions about Faerie and magic and in return, I asked about his plans for the future. We talked about everything. He is going to find some work as a lawyer, perhaps as a writer later. For he does not care much about the law. But sometimes he writes these scribbles of verse, sometimes prose. It is all very fanciful, mother. And a lot of it is about me.’ Cosette blushed.

‘And oh, I asked him to look out for Eponine for me. I owe her heartfelt gratitude for bringing you to me. We were never close, but in her doing this great kindness, I feel that I want more than anything to repay her, for her to be happy. I have seen her carrying this great sadness around, like a valise she could not get rid of. Marius promised to find her, she brought him to Rue Plumet. Oh, mother, I am so happy today, you will scarcely believe. Of course you will, for you see me talking nineteen to the dozen without pausing for breath. Oh, mother,’ and saying so, she flung her arms around her mother’s neck, ‘The sky would not be able to hold all that I feel today. I am so glad that you approve of Marius. I would have been heartbroken if you did not get along.’

Fantine kissed her daughter on the cheek and held her close. She did not imagine the young man would turn out to be similar to Tholomyes. He seemed far too earnest and passionate. Still, she could not shake the sudden anger that rose in her at the thought of Tholomyes.

The darkened sky was pouring with rain and lightning flashed across its face. Lightening had revealed someone peering through the window at the scene unfolding. A familiar yet unfamiliar face flashed outside the window for the briefest second before disappearing. The Gentleman with the Thistledown hair had paid a call. 


	8. Where are they going?

**Valjean**

Valjean was sitting on the steps of Champs de Mars after a visit to Father Mabeuf’s house. His happiness had revived with Fantine’s arrival and at the emergence of a new life on Cosette’s face. Even though he had unburdened his heart to Cosette, a part of him still wondered if he was risking both Fantine and her safety by virtue of them being near him. His suspicions had solidified by his run in with Thenardier and his cronies who were surrounded by darkness and clearly planning something. Valjean in his prudence which he had acquired from habit had not said all. He had not spoken of the fact that he was still afraid of being hunted like a beast by the police and thrown into the abyss which swallowed and drowned so many men- someday there would be a hand on his shoulder and it would be all over for him. In speaking of his past, Valjean had been careful to not mention his preoccupations of the future. He sometimes wondered if he should leave France for England and take Cosette and Fantine with him and start over, but with Fantine convalescing that was difficult to arrange. He was afraid of the shadow that hung around him and that threatened to thrust him into the darkness again at any moment. He could not drag Cosette and Fantine with him into that darkness and shame. He should leave them as he had intended, they would be much happier without that shadow in their lives. 

And there was the fact that Father Mabeuf whom he owed much was still lost to him. Meanwhile Paris had been erupting in chaos and unrest. He could not let Mabeuf be lost to the abyss. His thoughts drifted to the old man and their many conversations again. There was enough for Mother Plutarch and that she would want for nothing, he had at least made sure of that. Mother Plutarch had last seen Father Mabeuf walking with some students and he had not returned since then, she had become worried for him. Valjean had reassured her that he would find Father Mabeuf and then walked in the direction of the riots, the crowd that had been gathering for General Lamarque’s funeral soon closed up behind him. 

**Marius**

Marius was in love and had his love reciprocated and approved. To have found so much, to have achieved his ideal- Marius was on the summits with the gods and did not wish to inhabit the real and the ordinary. Cosette was his north star in the night sky, nay the beginning and end of his universe which was now full of constellations to guide him along. Young love is exquisite- to love is to feel intoxicated, to always have the other in your thoughts and not notice anything else. To be a lover is to be a somnambulist, oblivious to the world, but careful to every wish and want of your lover. Cosette had asked of him a simple request, so few had ever come from her- to find and restore Eponine. That was the wish of his dear father too. If he could restore one of the Thenardiers to happiness, he would make Cosette and his father happy. And did he not owe her something too? For restoring Cosette to him. But where to find her among the crowd that had been swelling in Paris? Marius was not even sure he wanted to find her; he would be embarrassed to meet her. He instead traced his steps to 16 Rue de La Verrerie where he found Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Feuilly and Combeferre making plans.

Marius in the somnambulism brought on by love and his own feelings of obligation to search for Eponine, did not pay close attention to what they were saying. Once while out on the streets, he thought he had seen a young gamine who resembled Eponine, but it turned out to be someone else. His head felt heavy as if he had come under the throes of magic. The only thing he could remember was that the night before his grandfather had refused to give his consent for marriage and had expressed alarm at the thought of magic and faeries. He would have to wait till he was twenty-five and had come into his inheritance- and waiting seemed to weigh heavily on his soul. Happiness was so close and yet so far.

‘Monsieur Marius,’ a boyish voice from Faubourg Saint Antoine called to him, ‘Monsieur Marius, your friends are waiting for you at the barricades.’

Marius recognised underneath the hoarse voice of Eponine. He followed the young man as he turned round the corner. Perhaps he could restore Eponine to happiness. He would have given Cosette the moon if she had asked for it, plucked from the sky. His heart sped as he thought of Cosette and of giving her some news at least, of getting one of the Thenardier children away from the barricades and death. 

**Eponine**

Eponine had been near the gardens of Rue Plumet on the evening of 3rd June 1832 as we have related. Patron Minette had fallen into a curse of darkness owing in great measure to her magic. The wild beasts had been confined to shadows and darkness by a spectre of a girl. Darkness and evil cowers among light, Eponine had been steadily growing nearer and nearer towards the light.

It was also surprizing to her to see the stones humming and the sky opening up and letting rain fall[1]. Eponine knew what that signified, her own magic had grown much stronger since then, though she knew not why or how. It felt as if nature was conspiring in helping magic in France to flourish again and the insurgents were taking advantage of that to help them build barricades across the city. 

She had had scarcely time to explore what that meant, for her and for Paris[2], since she had chanced across M. Marius following her, pensive and preoccupied with his own thoughts, when the riots intensified. She did not know where she was going, only that she knew she wanted to be a part of the fighting in the streets, something to live for, and hope for, she thought. It was not difficult to obtain a young man’s garments for her purposes. 

She knew some women intended to join, dressed as men, she also knew some theatre actors courtesy of Gavroche. She encountered one slipping away near Comedie Francaise which was being closed for riots. It had not taken much convincing for the exchange; she pushed the cap away from her face as she walked away dressed like a young man. The garments were also in better condition than her dress and she slipped by unseen into the funeral. She turned around once to see M. Marius following her. 

She found his actions puzzling. Why this dogged determination in following her, when he had avoided her? A tiny part of her was still glad to draw him away from Rue Plumet and Cosette, and hopeful that maybe he would accept her friendship and her help, which he had once rejected. Another more romantic part of her- the part that loved singing love songs quietly to herself, was annoyed that he was following her when she had tried so hard to shew him Cosette, to bring him to her. That part of her wanted Cosette to have the happiness Eponine never could, never would have. It had charmed her to think that Cosette would have someone to love, and a family around her. Eponine’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away. And for her former neighbour to give all that up to follow her around, really that made no sense whatsoever. Well, if he had decided to follow her into the riot and there was no chance of going back, barricades had been erected in almost every street as far as she could see, then at least she could take him to his friends that she had seen him with once or twice. She adjusted the cap and strode up to him confidently to tell him about his friends who were waiting for him.

**Mabeuf**

Father Mabeuf’s fortunes were dwindling. Now that the excitement of finding young women in mirrors was over and Fantine had been reunited with her daughter. Father Mabeuf told Mother Plutarch laughingly, ‘If any more young women come by in the mirror, send them away. I am too old for magic.’

Father Mabeuf had not been feeling very well for a couple of days and Mother Plutarch had also taken ill, they missed the warm chatter in the house which had once been filled up with Fantine and Eponine. A malaise had settled over the house, which Mother Plutarch blamed on the cold that had been unleashed in the storm through the mirror.

Each day he went back with a book in his arms and bought a few sous which they ate for supper or was kept for the medicines. Several times he ran into a kindly gentleman who purchased his books for much more than they were worth, though Father Mabeuf would always manage to return some of the money back, he did not want charity. He did not however refuse conversation. Even the stranger’s kindness was not enough, money soon ran out with medicines and food to buy, it always does. He had by now sold almost all his collection of magic books- magic is not enough to sustain life, especially when they won’t let you sell books on magic. His experiments on indigo were now almost completely abandoned and what little grew in the garden had been spoilt by rain. Father Mabeuf and Mother Plutarch still read in the evenings aloud, because that was all they had in terms of possessions- a little cheer, a little laughter. 

Once, the Academie des Magiciens had sent an invitation to Father Mabeuf based on his reputation and his book on herbs and plants. He had paid for the diligence and had polished his old boots. When he arrived, no one paid him any attention and he was not invited to be a part of the Academie which would have ensured a steady pension for him. They instead made fun of his clothes and tittered that ‘France’s magicians could never wear such shabby suits.’

Mabeuf walked back in the rain, having no money to take a cab.

When Mother Plutarch took a turn for the worse and expensive medicine needed to be bought, he took one final look at his empty bookshelf and sold his beloved Diogenes returning with a hundred francs which he placed on the bedside table.

It was the morning of 5th June and Mabeuf looking outside, asked a student what was going on.

‘General Lamarque’s funeral. The guards started firing at the people and now there is a Revolution on the streets. Everyone is building barricades, citizen.’

Mabeuf looked at his empty bookshelf, at his hands which were too old and too tired for magical spells, said, ‘Well then,’ in defiance towards the heavens and walked outside with the crowd.

* * *

[1] There had been reports from all corners of Paris that magic had been sighted more and more frequently during the past few days leading up to 5th and 6th June 1832. People would speak of it quietly, but it was being spoken much more frequently during secret meetings and in safe houses where the workers were storing their weapons and cartridges, books of magic also started appearing. The air was full of excitement and magic, some who were braver would mark their doors, with text stating that magic was welcome there, the even braver ones would perform magic to steal swords from under national guardsmen’s noses. There was one M. Combeferre and one M. Jehan Prouvaire who performed magic to save the life of one worker shot during a sudden raid at one of the safe houses at Rue de la Perle, though the author only found the written evidence of that several years later in one of their diaries which had been left behind. 

[2] This sudden flourishing of magic also faced resistance from the National Guards, who would shoot at unarmed citizens randomly during the making of barricades across the city or destroy the books of magic spells along with flags and cartridges.


	9. Cracks in the Foundation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fantine and Cosette face the Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair

One last word on the History of Magic in France. 

Magic is a momentum in many ways similar to Revolutions. It rises like a hydra from the miasmas and the social wretchedness of society. Revolutions and magic both have their roots in the anger of the people forming a storm - a storm which blows in the winds of '89. All storms begin with thunder, that thunder is the roar of the powerless against the powerful.

That thunder sometimes took the form of magic- passed on from generation to generation through poor working class women and men and the patois they spoke. Take the people away from their native tongue- that delightful argot, and you have to a large degree crushed their local traditions and made magic less likely. Therein is contained the history of magic in a nutshell- it is a history of oppression of a people- the fall and disappearance of magic, and one of resisting oppression- the restoration of magic to France [1]. Oh, you kings up in your gilded towers, beware the anger of the wretched people who you wrong. 

All through the summer of 1832, there had been several instances of magic being reported from different quarters- reports which had been mainly kept hushed up, just as citizens were passing guns and gunpowder quietly through safe houses. Newspapers were reporting magical sightings more frequently, much to the chagrin of Louis Phillippe's government.

The cracks in the foundation which were prominent before, grew bigger across the blood-red sky with the arrival of June 1832 and General Lamarque's funeral. Magic was visible in the bright threads from which the stars were embroidered, it was in the hum of the trees in the wind and the flowing of the river Seine across Paris. For several centuries magic had been the purview of the working classes and had been met with fear and revulsion by the bourgeois and the aristocrats- because it undermined their power and authority. So too are revolutions like 1830 halted by the bourgeois mid motion, out of fear of progress. You cannot contain magic or progress. It chafed at its bonds for years and with the rising tide of the rebellion, broke them completely. The spark of one ignited the powder keg of the other. The thunder which rose from magic, gave the barricades more fervour and passion. 

There was much disturbance in the private sphere of Rue Plumet as well.

Fantine’s first thought was that the image at the window had been a nightmare. From being suddenly reminded of Tholomyes, she had drifted to thoughts about the Faerie Gentleman and her captivity, so much that she thought she saw him outside her window.

‘I have had a terrible dream,’ she confessed to Toussaint. Cosette was in a cheerful mood all morning, filling the house with her singing as she arranged household matters with Toussaint. Fantine did not want to disturb her daughter’s happiness by frightening her with the image of the Gentleman with the Thistledown hair.

And then Father Madeleine, Fantine thought that she would feel better if Father Madeleine was living in the house with them. She had not thought of him as anyone other than Mayor Madeleine even when he had told her the truth: that he had been a convict at Toulon for nineteen years. She should have shrunk back from the thoughts of a dangerous convict, but Mayor Madeleine had been nothing but gentle and kind to her and Cosette. She knew that Cosette adored Father Madeleine and called him her Papa Fauchelevant.

She felt pity for Mayor Madeleine- nineteen years when your family was starving was an unjust punishment- she reflected that even though she was unlettered, she understood that society punished men and women who were poor. She still remembered being nearly dragged to prison, cold and in pain, by Javert, for what that gentleman who shoved snow down her neck did. She only wanted to be left alone. 

Fantine coughed loudly. It seemed that she would not be free of gentlemen who wanted to tell her what to do. She needed to rise up in society, and for that she needed to learn how to read and write properly. From Abaisse to ABC. Fantine had made these plans laying in her bed, for she still was not fully recovered, and both the doctor and Cosette had told her firmly to take as much rest as possible. Fantine could not refuse Cosette anything, even if she pleaded with the Doctor to let her walk around the house-but her fainting spells had still not disappeared. She had been learning some rudimentary letters from Cosette for the past month. She wiped the happy tears from her eyes as she thought of her bright, beautiful daughter and their few lessons together. 

‘ABC.’ Fantine read aloud and then paused as she spoke of the lullabies she would tell her daughter to put her to sleep as a baby. The lullabies would talk of ABC. She repeated the letters aloud again as she learned what they meant. 

It was slow, laborious work for her, learning what the letters meant, learning how to write things beyond signing her name. But Fantine was determined to carry on and was making progress. 

* * *

The vision that resembled the Gentleman with the Thistledown hair, appeared again the next day; it had not been a dream. Father Madeleine was away, and the whole of Paris was silent, expectant, waiting for something. But what were they waiting for? For the light which was to bring them out of the darkness.

Gentleman with the Thistledown hair paused in front of the mirror as Fantine was absentmindedly gazing at her appearance. She had the pale, gaunt look of sickness still but her cheeks were rosier and her hair was much longer, even if it was still growing with more grey flecks in it. Fantine had a resoluteness about her person, which gave her a dignified beauty and an eagerness to improve her and Cosette’s life. 

‘I have managed it, dearest Fantine.’ The Gentleman smiled at her, clapping his hands in delight, ‘I have managed to line up the chess pieces so that Paris may exist in chaos, ripping itself apart. I have in short, alerted, nay advised, the kings and the Guards about the funeral arrangements for General Lamarque. We cannot let the revolutionaries overthrow the king and establish a democracy.’ He put his hands together and laughed, ‘Can you imagine the thing? Revolution? What an absurd idea. Do you think the bourgeois would stand for a revolution? It is the bourgeois who have been so important in keeping magic out of France. Can you imagine, everyone being able to do magic and no kings? No, no, no my dear Fantine. We must have kings in France, under my control, or how will I make you the Queen of Faerie and of France?’ 

‘I don’t want to be a queen.’ Fantine said with a fierceness in her voice, ‘I want you to leave us alone.’ 

At this the Faerie Gentleman laughed again, ‘Leave.us.alone.’ he echoed, putting his hands on his side, ‘My dear Fantine you are charming. I enchanted you, I saved you from certain death, I naturally therefore possess part of your life. And my offer is more than generous. I can find your real name for you. I can find what your mother intended to call you.’

Fantine gasped at the words. She had never thought it would be possible to recover her name. She could be someone with a respectable name, she could learn more about her mother. She found herself sinking under the Faerie’s enchantment- she tried to call out to Toussaint and Cosette, but her voice was not able to formulate those words. She stared at the Gentleman with anger blazing in her eyes. 

‘I will give you.’ the Faerie Gentleman took out his pocket watch, 'Twelve hours to make up your mind. Say goodbyes and all that, while I oversee the events in Paris. Overthrow the kings, what a ridiculous idea!’

Saying that, the Faerie Gentleman disappeared and Fantine found her voice returning. Cosette had rushed into the room to find the Faerie Gentleman making his exit. 

‘I have been dreaming of the strange house with crooked sides, Maman. It’s the house of a witch[2] who lived thousands of years ago, and the entrance of the Faerie realm. It has become much clearer these days.’ She opened one of her books on magic to shew Fantine, ‘We can defeat the Gentleman when he returns. I will teach you the spells we need. The spells are all visible in the sky and the earth, the trees and the rivers.' Cosette waved her hands about, her eyes full of excitement, 'Don’t worry, Maman.’ 

Fantine nodded, she was not afraid of the Faerie, not when she had Cosette by her side. 

‘What do I need to study?’ she asked Cosette excitedly as Cosette shewed her the relevant spells. With only a rudimentary knowledge, Fantine was able to perform a simple spell to reveal the Faerie Gentleman’s location, given to her by the trees. Cosette’s eyes were bright and shining as the picture faded, ‘Magic is returning to France, Maman. The floodgates have been opened. The sky is pouring with magic, it is everywhere.’

* * *

Barely twelve hours had passed by the hand of the grandfather clock in the dining room. In that time, barricades had been erected in the streets everywhere and the power of magic was growing alongside it. When the Gentleman returned all drenched with rain, for it had been raining all day on the 5th of June, he met with Fantine and Cosette who were whispering spells in the garden. The Gentleman's own spells seemed to have no effect on them. 

Cosette laughed gaily as she looked around her garden, where the water was arranging itself on the leaves as if the falling rain were a spell written by the sky. She did not feel the slightest fear of the powerful Faerie. There was wild magic and bravery in her too. 

This time, the sky spoke, the howling of the wind confirmed the sky’s spell, the stones echoed the wind’s magic, the birds spoke the magic of the river. Fantine echoed the writing. 'No,' she said, 'I will not return with you to Faerie.'

No, echoed the birds, the trees and the stones. No, thundered the sky. 

The Gentleman was borne away swiftly and flung over stones, even as he shifted and changed his form, growling angrily at the magic that Fantine was whispering to the winds as they bore the words away. 

‘I don’t want to know my real name.’ she shouted, ‘I want you gone from our lives.’ 

The Gentleman's eyes widened for an instant at the anger in Fantine’s eyes, before he disappeared from view. The Gentleman- an ancient being of magic found his magic faded and his form crumbled to dust by the stones, the river and the sky. 

Cosette shewed her the house which had appeared to her in her dreams and was staring at both of them. ‘My place is here, beside my daughter.’ she told the house and the house curtsied to her, ‘Let the people of Faerie choose to elect who they must. I know the woodland Faeries who helped me would be excellent for this role.’ The house made a movement which resembled a curtsy again, before vanishing from their sight. 

Cosette had flung her arms on her mother's shoulders. She remained for a long time in her mother’s embrace, sobbing tears of happiness as Fantine kissed her daughter.

‘This Faerie was the cause of so much unhappiness to you Maman, and you were so brave for so many years. Oh, I am crying, but they are tears of happiness. Oh, Maman, I will never let you out of my sight. To think you were in danger of being lost to me again, forever, after I have only met you a few months hence. No, no. My heart would not bear so much sorrow. It would break and Marius, oh Marius would be heartbroken too, and Papa too. Oh Maman, I am so glad. I am so glad.’

[1] For a more detailed review, we would point the readers towards The Discovery of France by Graham Robb

[2] The witch was known as Isabella Martín who had lived in Spain and travelled to France in the 14th Century. The crooked house had been hers. She was reputed to be one of the most powerful witches in the world; she had vanished when she was in her early fifties, leaving the crooked ruined house behind- which serves as one of the entrances to the Faerie Realm. She is believed to be still living somewhere, perhaps among the Faeries.

**Author's Note:**

> A very warm thank you to my beta readers: PilferingApples- Pilf without your cheerleading and enthusiasm and talking over the points on which I was stuck, I would have abandoned this long ago.  
Kcrabb88- For looking over the chapters and hearing my ideas amd being supportive  
Midautumnnightdream- for leaving the best comments and for being a great friend to talk things over with.
> 
> Also Graham Robb's Discovery of France and Takahiro Arai's Les Miserables Manga for giving me lots of material and ideas I could use for this very self-indulgent fic. 
> 
> Thank you if you decided to stay and read the fic.


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